Comparisons And Complaisance
by TakeMeToNeverland
Summary: Four sisters gone, Mrs. Bennet focuses her attention on getting Mary Bennet married.
1. Volume I Part 1

**Title: **Comparisons and Complaisance

**Rating: **G

**Summary: **After the marriage of three Bennet daughters, and the fourth in courting, Mary Bennet is left as the only remaining daughter left to be wed. Always the oddball, Mary struggles in overcoming her complaisance and finding a person who will not compare her to her sisters like everyone does.

**AN: **Normally, when writing of an adaptation from Jane Austen's Pride And Prejudice, one is inclined to write of the relationship between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy. However, I believe Austen's depiction to be pure masterpiece, and I will not dive into their relationship, as I doubt I would be able to do her justice in this timeless characters. I choose to write of Mary Bennet for she is the one least talked of in the novel by Austen, which leaves me with much creativity on my part to develop her character to whichever way I please. I hope you find nothing I write offensive in my portrayal of characters, and I am sure you will all be able to decipher between my own material/characters and that of the brilliant Jane Austen. Please feel free to give me any critics or whatever you feel like saying to me, for any commentary on my writing is greatly appreciated. So begins my first attempt of fanfiction towards Jane Austen…

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**Comparisons and Complaisance**

**AN: **Also, before I begin, I would like to point out that I shall posting in chapter pairs,and I only use the "Part" in the title to show that is still a part of that particular volume. I hope my formatting for this story does not confuse any.

**Volume I**

**1**

Once the first steps are taken in a necessary task, the motivation to succeed in such a task in a more rapid pace than before possesses the body and soul of a person. For Mrs. Bennet, with four daughters out of home, her primary goal in life now rested within providing her last remaining daughter a place of her own.

"Mr. Bennet, did you see how Mr. Gallagher doted on our Mary? He shared three dances with her!" she reported after they settled indoors from another ball. "Such an amiable man, Mr. Gallagher is. Any woman would find themselves to be in quite a happy manner once in wedlock with him."

"Good grief, and I thought the bother was already through." Mr. Bennet looked up briefly from his book. "Four daughters out of the house within months of each other. Let us not push our luck any further, my dear. I am quite at my leisure as it may be, and Mary was never one to stir up mischief."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet, I know not why you think that four daughters gone may now imply that the last shall be just as well off. Mary still has not a penny to her name, and it matters not that her sisters are settled down nicely."

"Then, perhaps something may be done about it."

"Something done? Well, of course, something must be done! We cannot leave our last to fend for herself, Mr. Bennet. Are you going to suggest the means in which to help our Mary?"

"I trust that you already have a plan set and ready, my dear. I need not bother myself with worry over producing my own."

"You need not worry? Why, Mr. Bennet, I believe worry is exactly what is there. Mary is not half as handsome as the other girls, nor is she equally amiable.

"She does seem to have a pedantic air about her, I believe."

"The girl spends her days with her nose in a book! How can she expect to meet an agreeable man when she has not the time of the day to go out into the world as she should? Books cannot make for companions, especially when she needs to find herself into an engagement before she becomes too old to incite anything desirable for men."

"I rather disagree with you. Books provide very stimulating company during a lifetime. However, I do realize the necessity of Mary's engagement."

"How can you sit there when we require just as much effort in getting her married as we did for all the others? Possibly more, for she does not have the qualities that made our other girls such easy prey for men's affections. Are you listening? Mr. Bennet! Your support in the matter gives my nerves no relief!"

"There is no reason to have your nerves threatened in the situation. My dear, I understand you completely. We shall get Mary married, and with much haste, so as to provide your nerves some leisure, at last."

"So what do you think of Mr. Gallagher? Would he not be a fine match for Mary?"

"I am not well enough acquainted with the man to give a worthy opinion of the fellow."

"He is from the country, and not a man of much fortune, but he shall be a good provider when it comes down to it, I am sure. Mary will be close to home, if ever we have need for her, but a married woman's life does not provide for much time to spend for her own devices. She shall have a roof over her head, and a much devoted, respectable husband, which is the most we could possibly ask for her."

"Is his income stable? A farmer? They do stumble across many a barren year in their harvests, do they not?"

"We do not have the time to be picky, Mr. Bennet. Mr. Gallagher will do, and I am sure if he proposes, Mary will have the good sense to accept. She realizes her situation and, upon my insistence, there will be no doubt to their engagement and happiness."

"See, I knew well enough you had a plan devised all ready, woman."

**2**

Mary Bennet was as much the oddball of the family, as she was the stranger. Her apparent plainness from a young age made her fade into the background of the family business until she seceded from her sisters entirely. The obvious undesirability of her appearance caused her to seek affections through other means, more particularly through numerous accomplishments. A slave to her enhancement, she isolated herself from all and did not dally over such trifles as ribbons, flowers, dancing, and meeting new people.

Her mother had an infamous habit of talking louder than need be, and, oft times enough, her tête-à-tête with her husband regarding Mary's circumstances was overheard by her.

_It is not that I find my circumstances overbearing, for that is certainly not the intentions I have in writing of this, but I grow wearisome of it all. I am not like my sisters. I do not seek endeavors such as would thrust me towards the men of society and into wedlock. I do not flirt, nor do I ever intend to. Balls wear out my spirit, for when I tire of standing around in pursuit of a partner to no avail, I seek refuge in music, but even then papa comes forth and sends me away. Can they not realize that a quest for my own engagement will end in no triumphant marriage, for there be not a man in the entire country that shares the same feelings and situation as I, nor is there any so willing to accept me for what I am, in all of my plainness and complacence? It is not that I am not desirable in the least bit, for I have more accomplishments than many a woman I have seen wedded by a respectable man, but it is that no man will be willing to spend their time with a wife so homely as I, who does not dance or converse easily with others. There is no boisterous spirit within me, nor is there any affability, and I have accepted whole-heartedly my fate as a spinster._

Mary stirred from where she wrote in her room, once filled with nonstop talk from her two younger sisters, and walked to the mirror hung on the wall. She ran a hand over her lips, which seemed far too large for her face, as did her eyes, on a face that was too thin for such large features. She had a natural color to her cheeks, which might have been desirable, if her cheeks extended a bit further. Her nose had an aristocratic shape about it, as if ready to turn up the first person thrown her way, but it did her face no justice when it clashed with her less attractive attributes. Pulling her long hair, much darker than her other sisters, up as her older sisters do at balls, she searched deeply for an inclination that she had some handsomeness about her that all her other sisters possessed. When time seemed to have passed by substantially, she gave up in exasperation, jumping upon her bed in tears.

"If I were as handsome as my sisters, a man might realize my accomplishments! For it matters not how well endowed I am in my aptitudes such as talents and intellect if they never pass a glance my way for I am not handsome enough!"

"Mary?" Mrs. Bennet knocked on the door. "Child, are you asleep yet? We have an early day upon us in town. Do not stay awake too long into the night."

"Yes, mama, I am aware of our plans tomorrow. I am to blow out my candle this very moment."

And, with a blow of a candle, Mary Bennet extinguished the light and cried in the darkness.

* * *

"Such a lovely day, is it not, Mary?" Mrs. Bennet laughed. "Why, it is the perfect day to meet a man. Fortune could not have given us a better opportunity, and with so many people in town!"

"Where are your intentions to start, mama?" Mary inquired. "We should not detain the task at hand for talk of the weather."

"Always attentive to what is in need to be done," Mrs. Bennet remarked. "It is a quality every men should thrive upon their wives having. You will make a man a very devoted and assiduous wife someday, Mary."

"Believe me, when men take leave to notice anything beyond my looks, I am sure they may admit to that." Mary responded and continued before Mrs. Bennet could toss in her own two cents once more. "Where are we to begin, mama? You never told me."

"Why, we are off to seek Mr. Gallagher, of course!" Mrs. Bennet answered. "I heard just this morning from Mrs. Lucas that he was in town with his daughter to have her spring dress tailored."

"Mr. Gallagher?" Mary recalled the man from the previous night. "The one with the beard who is twenty years my senior? Mama, the man has a daughter only three years younger than I!"

"Hush, Mary! The man is very suitable, and he would be a very proper and most loyal husband."

"Except that he has married before."

"He is a widower, Mary. If your husband were to die, I am sure you would be out in society once more. No one wishes to remain alone in life, and a woman is unable to take care of herself in such a society."

"I would not might the independence at all."

"That is not an option. You are a sensible girl, and you should know well the scandal that would arise at you living on your own without a man. You would be a harlot, and I can not bear the scandal it would create for your sisters. They have a reputation to maintain and it would be dreadful to bestow such an unfavorable reputation their way."

"Above all else that I hope my sisters never receive in their lifetime, a bit of gossip of the family is most certainly my top priority in detaining."

"Really, Mary, until now I never knew you to be so sarcastic."

"Believe me, mama, I am sure there are many more qualities of myself which you are unaware of."

"Well, pray child, they are nothing that would make you less of a catch."

"Need we waste our time with Mr. Gallagher? He could have no business with me."

"No business with you? Why, if the man proposes, he shall have every bit of business with you."

"The man certainly will not propose to me if he can help it."

"Whyever not?"

"Why, his daughter cannot stand the sight of me. And he is very much in pursuit of a woman who may be a good model for his daughter. I have no desires of taking such a girl into my life. She is the most troublesome girl I have ever made acquaintance with."

"If Mr. Gallagher proposes, you are to accept, Mary. He is a good man, and you will make him a good wife. There is no doubt of the good providence of such a marriage."

"Oh mama, you cannot demand it from me."

"If you have any concern towards my poor nerves, you shall accept Mr. Gallagher to relieve them at last." Mrs. Bennet looked up and bowed. "Why, Mr. Gallagher! What as the chance of meeting you in town today?"

"I am here on the business of getting Margaret's dress tailored. We were detained when Margaret found another dress to her liking, which she demanded I get."

"With five daughters grown, I know exactly what it is that you speak of, Mr. Gallagher!" Mrs. Bennet laughed. "I have, many a time, had to spend a few pretty pennies to satisfy their vanities. But your daughter is very handsome, and I am sure she looked quite radiant in the dress."

"Yes, she looked very handsome in the dress, and the tailor was very generous and charged the dress for a fraction of the price. We are looking forward to a marriage soon enough for her."

"Married already? Is she not only fifteen?"

"She is, but there are some girls that are meant to marry at such a young age. I do believe you had a daughter yourself married at fifteen."

"Yes, you are correct, Mr. Gallagher. My Lydia married at that age."

"Then I am sure you understand this, as well?"

"Of course. You will not find a woman who can understand it more completely than I." Mrs. Bennet let out one last laugh and then remembered her business in the conversation. "Does not my Mary look lovely today?"

"Mary?" Mr. Gallagher turned for the first time to acknowledge her. "Why, yes, Mary does look a fair deal good today. How have you been, Ms. Bennet?"

"I have seen many a better day," Mary answered. "There are many things to do in the day."

"Very true, I must admit." Mr. Gallagher laughed. "I must be off though. I still am in need to stop by the blacksmith for some horseshoes. I do not recall the last time they were changed, and with so much field work to be done at home, I cannot have a horse ruined."

"I must be off as well, so much to be done in a day!" and, walking off without another word, Mrs. Bennet departed, leaving Mary standing before Mr. Gallagher.

"Oh, I…" Mary saw the confused look on Mr. Gallagher's face at her remaining where she was. "…I am off on my own errands as well. Good day to you, Mr. Gallagher."

"Good day to you too, Ms. Bennet."

Mary laughed briefly at the absurdity of Mr. Gallagher ever having feelings towards her. He had asked her to dance the previous night only because he had seen her often enough standing alone at balls, and felt she should have her fair share of jollity. She had been obliged and thankful for his kind gesture, but she knew there was no meaning beneath the surface of his actions.

"Wherever mama is off to, she expects me to spend my morning with Mr. Gallagher." Mary shook her head. "I suppose that means I have this time at my disposal to do whatever I please."

Grinning at the idea, Mary walked further into town in pursuit of a place where she may find a book to read or, perhaps, a piano to indulge her time in.


	2. Volume I Part 2

**AN: **So sorry for the delay. I would have posted this up earlier, if not my internet had decided to malfunction all this week. I do hope to post as often as time permits, but leisure time is often not present enough in my life. I do promise to update asap, and hope that what I do post will suffice for now. Don't forget to give a bit of feedback. It is all taken in with much delight.

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**3**

Passing by a small store, Mary walked in. A small shelf of books sat in the far back, left untouched for the most part by others who had more imperative matters than that provided by literature. With one look at Mary, the store clerk behind the counter turned back to a deep conversation with a colorful girl, whose bonnet shielded her view from Mary. Too often had such gestures occurred that Mary had grown used to them over time, but at such a moment as this, when Mrs. Bennet was particularly pressing for her own engagement, this action caused a slap to her own complacence.

Mary soon leaned against a wall, reading a penny romance novel that had her flushed with exasperation for her own lack of such a feeling. She was not one to demand romance for herself, such high expectations would surely leave her to disappointment, but the men's adamant determination in their love was one which she wished to call her own. It seemed unfair to her to settle for a petty novel to have love in her life, though fictitious it may be, when the girl before her clad in a ridiculous bright dress much like her young, silly sisters, was receiving more attention than necessary from the store clerk.

"Do you like this novel?" a man interrupted her thoughts and caused her to look up from where she read. "My master, the one I work for, has an older sister that is staying at his estate. She always has her nose in such novels. I know not what may be the enjoyment received from such writing."

He was a boy, perhaps sixteen at the most, with fair, flaxen hair and a cowlick that allowed for shorter strands to fall into his face. His eyes were rather large- curious orbs of a piercing blue. Many could see that, given a few years, he would develop into very handsome features, which would undoubtedly provide him with affections in such an aesthetic society.

"I am not one to typically indulge myself in such literary trash, but there is no books of intellect provided here in which to enrich the mind. What business sends you here?"

"Business? I am here to deliver my master's sister back to London. He has stopped off in town briefly with her to leave me to produce my own means of engaging myself during their brief absence."

"If I may ask, what is your business with the man?"

"I do not come from a family of wealth, Miss." He was most reluctant to share his story, such was the way of his gregarious character. "And, being the younger son, the little fortune of my family is to proceed directly to my elder brother. I am resorted to indentured servitude, but I am grateful I have such a master with both compassion and the connecting to assist me with my own means of survival once I turn one and twenty."

"It seems your life be much order though, despite your circumstances."

"It is, and my experience has allowed me the acquaintance of many a great person. May I inquire as to the name of the maiden I have been conversing with? I apologize for not inquiring at an earlier time."

"It is quite alright," silly as the boy may be at times, his puerile behavior brought her joy. "I am Mary Bennet."

"Mary Bennet? It is a pleasure truly. I am…"

"_Mary_! Mary _Bennet_?"

The woman deep in conversation with the store clerk looked up and gasped. At first, her face was so distorted with mortification to make the porcelain skin, painted cheeks, and thick eyelashes of Margaret Gallagher identifiable and familiar.

"Margaret? Whatever brings you here? I thought you still at the tailor."

"My father believes me there," her eyebrows arched in suspicion. "He would only think otherwise if another gave him leave to think so."

"You need not worry of my own interference. I have no concern with your affairs."

"Are you not hoping to marry my father?"

"I certainly made no indication of such plans, and I did not think your father conveying any intentions either."

"That was the indication I received from observing your mother."

"Mama is merely quick to have her daughters married off. You need not worry, for I have no such intentions to comply to her wishes, though they grow tedious to me and I wish to rid myself of them."

"You were not half as bold at the ball in what you spoke of."

"Perhaps it is because I grow used to mama thrusting me into the world. I know not for this change in myself as well."

"My father is not one to toss me to society," she passed a pretty smile to the clerk. "But I believe I shall not have much trouble with it."

"I dare say you shall find it far too easy," Mary remarked.

"To be perfectly candid, I do!"

Laughing, she departed, to leave the clerk smug over her smiles and Mary to contemplate her words. Life seemed far more to one's advantage if one were handsome, and it vexed Mary at how simple girls like Margaret could turn men's heads with such interest.

"Pardon me for the intrusion," Mary apologized, thinking it to be the civil action.

"I do not mind. The lady seemed amiable."

"I suppose she does."

"I am William Cadaver," he bowed. "Perhaps next I return I may call?"

"If that would please you. All in town know of where my family resides."

"My master is back," he turned to a white and blue carriage that passed by the window and headed to the door. "I must be leaving, lest they depart without me. Thank you for indulging me with your company whilst I waited."

"It was a pleasure," Mary answered in a voice that did not even permit the clerk to hear her words.

Departing for home, Mary could not conceal her happiness in finally conversing with the other sex at last. Though he was younger than she and just as silly as half of her sisters in many manners, it was very pleasing for her to have any man, regardless of age, choose to converse with her and, in the most convincing manner, appear to be blithe and in full enjoyment of her company.

"Perhaps there may be hope for me if I am able to engage another in conversation in the most pleasing manner. There is hope." Mary grinned to herself. "Shall it ring true? There is hope."

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**4**

"Mary!" Jane greeted her sister with enthusiasm and provided her with a warm hug. "It is so great to have you visit us. You are growing up so much! Are you growing out your hair?"

"Yes, I am." Mary replied. "I thought I should try something new in my life. It is all dreadfully the same, these past eighteen years."

"Well, I am sure your hair will look delightful when it reaches the length you desire." Jane smiled and led her up the stairs. "Mr. Bingley is awaiting you in the parlor, I believe. We have been looking forward to your arrival for some time, Mary."

"Well, I am glad that I arrived when I did." Mary gave her sister a sweet smile. "How have you been?"

"I never knew such happiness existed before," Jane laughed and grinned with as much glee as she did when Mr. Bingley had first proposed. "It all seems such a dream, married to Charles."

"You look like a dream… Jane." Mr. Bingley stood and walked to his wife. "And how have you been, Mary? Is there much new in Hertfordshire?"

"The Kings held a ball a fortnight ago," Mary told them. "Mama insisted I go."

"And did you have a pleasant time?"

"You know I never receive much enjoyment in balls, Jane." Mary responded. "I would much rather play the piano and sing, if papa would give me permission to do so."

"Netherfield Park has a very nice piano forte," Mr. Bingley informed. "You may, if you would like, play it. It does not very often get such attention.'

"Oh, please do, Mary. It has been so long since I have heard you play."

As all newlyweds, who still had much time left to become better acquainted and were currently enraptured in the perpetual splendor of love, Charles and Jane were victims if ever there were ones. Both had a pleasant air about them, and such similar tempers they were completely and utterly the other's counterpart. It seemed impossible, when in the presence of such pure and affectionate love as that between the two, to ever remain far from a feeling of happiness, and Mary could not deny the joy she felt when in their company.

"I am very glad to be here."

"And we are very glad to have you here," Mr. Bingley replied.

"I do not recall the last time I received encouragement in playing," Mary smiled. "It is so nice to be away from home, if only for a sennight."

"Is that it?" Jane questioned. "But you must visit Lizzie, Mary. She will wish to see you are well."

"We are to depart for Pemberley in a fortnight," Mr. Bingley said. "Perhaps you extend your visit at Netherfield and join us at Pemberley for another fortnight?"

"Mama is expecting me back."

"I am sure mama would not mind so much."

"I suppose she would have no objections," Mary agreed. "She shall have peace at home, at last. I believe that is all she is up to at the moment."

"Mama only worries that she shall not have us in a comfortable home before papa dies," Jane answered in defense. "You must not be so harsh on her, Mary."

"I do try, but it seems so irrational of her to aim at me finding such a match as you and Lizzie did. She is aiming far too high for me, and I shall never be in wedlock with such high expectations."

"You are a lovely girl, Mary." Jane took her hands in her own. "Never believe you are any less of a woman than you are."

"I do not think I shall, but oft times enough, I lose patience as mama does in the matter."

"Do not give up," Jane reassured. "There is a man out there for you."

"I would be happy if I were so lucky to have half of a man as great as Mr. Bingley," Mary remarked, looking over at her brother-in-law. "But providence does not permit it at this time, nor any other."

"What are your plans whilst at Netherfield?" Mr. Bingley inquired.

"Read some books. Play the piano. Most particularly, savor the time away from home."

"You would not like to attend any balls? I am sure, at least once we embark to Pemberley, that you would like to go. You may spend the evening with Georgiana. She shall be very honored to have your company for the night."

"Unless I become as handsome as my sisters overnight, I shall not bother wasting my time." Mary replied candidly. "I meant not to be rude, Mr. Bingley."

"Please, I am your brother now, you may call me Charles." Mr. Bingley smiled. "You need not feel pressured. You may come when you are ready."

"I do wish you would go out more, Mary. You are a beautiful girl."

"You are my sister, Jane, and required to say it."

"I say it not because I feel inclined but because I love you and feel you deserve the truth."

"You, who thinks good of all the world? Perhaps I should be more like you, Jane."

"Never," Jane shook her head. "Mary, dearest, you should feel no obligation to change to satisfy others. I love you for who you are. You are my sister, and whatever befalls you, I shall stand beside you."

"I do appreciate having a sister like you, truly I do." Mary grinned. "It is so dreadfully hard to think ill of anyone, when in your presence, Jane. You are the most perfect being that has ever been in my acquaintance."

"I am no angel, Mary."

"You look like one, if ever I saw an angel." Mary sighed. "Perhaps I shall play for you both now?"

"Yes, I believe we have waited long enough." Mr. Bingley walked ahead to lead the way. "I am sure you shall be delighted in the piano as much as we shall be delighted by your playing. It is entirely yours during your stay at Netherfield."

"I am so glad to have Mr. Bingley… Charles… into the family," Mary told her sister as they linked arms down the hall. "He is so very agreeable, and I cannot think of another man who is so affable a husband. You are so very fortunate to have him."

"Yes, I know." Jane laughed to herself again, lost once more in her situation. "I am sure none should know of how fortunate it is to be married to such a wonderful man as do I, except, perhaps, Elizabeth. But you shall see for yourself, in due time."

"Elizabeth?" Mary joined in Jane's laughter. "I do believe I shall be having a very pleasant trip indeed."


	3. Volume I Part 3

**AN: **I hope you all like this chapter. Please forgive me ahead of time for my depiction of Georgiana. I do hope to show some character development in the future as she grows up more, for I make her very childish, especially towards the end. But, I do promise I will tie it all up in the end. Don't forget to tell me what you think, especially because I am introducing some of Jane Austen's previous masterpieces of characters in these two chapters.

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**5**

A fortnight provided Mary with as much enjoyment as she had experience in all of her life. Though it had been not even a year since Jane's departure from home into wedlock, it seems as if she had forever been residing in the halls of Netherfield Park. She and Mr. Bingley were most gracious hosts, and did all within their power and capabilities to make Mary feel as comfortable as possible during her stay.

When time called upon them to depart for Pemberley, Mary found it very difficult to imagine a stay anywhere else being relatively close to the pleasure received from Netherfield Park. But, true as gossip ever shall be, Mr. Darcy's dwellings were beyond words. The general splendor of the structure almost gave off an overbearing presence that many often associated with Mr. Darcy himself, but the softness within the building proved far from likewise in its exterior countenance.

Mrs. Reynolds informed Jane, Mr. Bingley, and Mary of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy's absence during the day, but that they should return by nightfall, if they are not detained. Left to settle in her room without a welcoming from her eldest sister, Mary followed Mrs. Reynolds to her room, which would be adjacent to Georgiana's. Never had she imagined such bedroom chambers could be so large, and she felt more claustrophobic in such a large quantity of space than she did in her small square room at home. Sitting at the vanity, she stared at her reflection and commenced to brush her hair.

"Are you Mary Bennet?"

Mary turned instantaneously to identify the speaker and saw Georgiana stand before her, a pleasant smile on her face, though her eyes held a taciturn fear in them, as if hesitating to advance. The Darcy shyness, often mistaken enough for pride, was evoked in her manner, looking at Mary in discernment and trying to make out the character of her visitor.

"That is who I am," Mary answered, standing up and placing her brush down. "I assume you are Georgiana."

"You assume right," she moved towards her, and Mary saw how she was taller than she. "My brother told me of your arrival. I am to treat you as a sister. You _are _my sister, if only through the law."

"I suppose I cannot argue with you there," Mary admitted. "You have uncommonly large bedchambers."

"Really?" she laughed, and Mary smiled at how some of her companion's timidity dissipated with her remark. "I suppose we do. I am so accustomed to them, I notice not."

"If surrounded with such privileges all my life, I doubt I should notice as well."

"I do believe I shall enjoy your company immensely," Georgiana helped herself to jump upon Mary's bed. "Please, join me and tell me about yourself. I wish to know all that I possibly can."

"And I thought you shy just moments before," Mary remarked, sitting down lightly on the edge of her bed.

"I suppose I am, in many aspects, but I cannot bear to be shy around family, though we still be strangers."

"Tell me, is my eldest sister well?" Mary inquired. "She is the same Lizzie, is she not?"

"Goodness, I do not think she capable of being anything else." Georgiana giggled. "Why, though a fool can tell they are in love, she is as full of fire towards my brother as ever. He is still smitten, as most young men are when they begin marriage, but there is no denying their happiness. I never before saw such a finely matched pair in my life."

"That was what I thought of Jane and Mr. Bingley."

"They are fortunate," Georgiana commented. "…To so easily stumble across a worthy companion for life."

"Fortunate? Fate could not have delivered them a better partner, if given the opportunity."

"Do you not think it fate to find your true love in the most advantageous circumstances?" Georgiana questioned. "It was as meant to be as the rising sun."

"You sound as if you are quoting some romantic rubbish," Mary shook her head. "It seems more fortuitous to be a realist and look at such circumstances in a pragmatic manner."

"But then it is not romantic at all."

"Not many women can afford romance when left to little or no options for their future."

"Certainly you do not consider yourself to be part of this assemblage."

"I need not classify myself, when I have a mother at home who does enough comparisons to last a myriad of lifetimes."

"But you do not truly believe your fate rests in a marriage with little foundation of affections and partiality, I hope."

"I do not believe in fate."

"Do not believe? Whyever not?"

"Fate makes an event ineluctable, and I do not agree with such a word." Mary responded in all of her sagaciousness and shrewdness. "If truly perceptive of the term, to acquiesce in its meaning and its hold on life, you suddenly become as meaningless and devoid of purpose as the rocks that lay upon the street. To comply would be to consider that, no matter the actions taken in your life, you are destined to end up as fate deems it to be. The absurdity is undeniable, in my eyes. I would much rather think of my future being the result of my actions up until that very moment than a meaningless effort to subdue my predestined, inevitable fate. Fate is a horrid word to consider, given that it transfigures you into a purposeless being, and I wish to think that some degree of purpose is fulfilled in my existence in this world."

"My, your talk makes me feel silly and foolish." Georgiana giggled, not sure how to reply to such a speech. "Elizabeth did not warn me of your seriousness in such matters. Perhaps in the near future, I shall take heed in not letting my imprudence capture hold of all my sensibility."

Silence followed, whereupon Mary stood and moved towards the windows that took up the majority of the far wall. Too often had her habit of demonstrating some degree of intelligence in a quest for complaisance ruined a conversation. Try as she might to perfect herself, she would never be a master of eloquence or amiability.

Pemberley truly was as breathtaking a sight as words could express. Though Mary stood tense and in a sense of abashment for her remarks, a feeling of ease and tranquility still carried relief through her, just standing in such a peaceful place. Misplaced as she was, a stranger to such a life as that which was presented to her, Mary was the first to return to the fraternization.

"How do you invest your time? What activities of leisure are presented here at Pemberley?"

"Leisure?" Georgiana looked up and laughed. "There are balls and grand suppers we attend often. We may spend an afternoon horseback riding, if you wish, or quiet afternoons playing the piano…"

"You play?" Mary found herself laughing at her excitement. "I suppose it would be reasonable that you do. I am sure your family supports your accomplishments."

"Accomplishments?" her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "My brother is enchanted with my devotion, and I receive great pleasure from it."

"Do you not see it as an accomplishment?"

"Goodness, I think it to be a perfectly enjoyable way to invest my time. I never sought it as a means to make me any better of a person than I be at this moment."

"Perhaps it is my turn to feel silly and foolish," Mary moved and sat more on her bed, propped besides Georgiana. "It must be pleasant to have your family so supportive in the tasks you partake in."

"Is your family not so?"

"They ought to, but I doubt they ever shall." Mary smiled and shook her head. "Their primary interests are far from my own."

"Whatever do they wish for you to do?" Georgiana inquired. "I cannot imagine me doing anything that might arise a feeling of disapproval from my family."

"To go to balls and get married like my sisters."

"You do not wish for such things?"

"I would prefer to sing and practice the piano."

"For the rest of your life?"

"Until there be a man in the country who finds such things as indulging as do I." Mary shrugged. "Perhaps I be asking much from the world in my demand, but if I must dream the impossible, I shall make it unceasingly impossible, for one impossible is no different from the next."

"My, your thoughts are quite strong." Georgiana remarked. "Your skills of perception are positively occult. You remind me much of Elizabeth. I can draw such similarities between the two."

"Be that true?" Mary raised her brows. "Such comparisons between my sisters and myself typically yield us to be quite dissimilar."

"Not at all, I find you to be just as confident and assured as your sister."

"I do appreciate your compliment, for I find Elizabeth to be an admirable woman."

"She is," Georgiana smiled. "…she be a free spirit, if ever I saw one." Laughter escaped her and she looked through the window in reminiscence. "Oft times enough, it feels as if she may take off into the night. She did once, were you aware of such an occurrence? My brother searched all of Pemberley on horseback, and my brother be knowing our estate better than any person I have ever encountered, but she could be found no where! Why, my brother feared the worst and was in such a dreadful mood that I felt it best to leave him be, and then she shows up in the morning, covered in mud and saying she felt the need to have some fresh air, for such walks were invigorating to the spirit. Could you imagine? Such freedom to roam! I do hope to someday have such independence and will."

"I do believe such traits are something that one is born with, and not cultivated over time." Mary answered considerably, but softened into a smile. "However, I, too, wish for such things as well."

"There is something about you Bennets," Georgiana smiled and held Mary's hand. "But I find you all simply delightful. None the same, yet so very similar. I cannot think of a family I would prefer to call my own, and I do hope we may grow to become close friends, Mary. You are not so lost to me in love for a man as Jane and Elizabeth are, and I know not Kitty and Lydia enough, for Lydia is off enough with her husband and Kitty rather enjoys her place with Lady Catherine at the moment."

"Lady Catherine? She has tolerance for Kitty? However did this occur? Why, I thought Lady Catherine had no such tolerance for such silliness."

"Why, Kitty is not half so dreadful as she might have been." Georgiana informed. "She truly did undergo quite a transformation living at Pemberley with us. She was awful shy, I must tell you, but she made for a great companion, for she knows well how to please a person."

"You have come to observe quite a handful of a person," Mary determined. "I think you know more of my family that do I. I have not talked with them in months, and it seems they all be strangers to me."

"Nonsense, I am sure you shall know them well as ever once you see them again." Georgiana reassured. "I am positive they will rejoice at your arrival, and be just as enchanted with your presence here as I be."

"I do not think they would do me as much justice as you do," Mary grinned. "But I do know they shall treat me as they would at home, at least that shall not alter with the progression of time. I hope not for anymore than that."

* * *

**6**

Providence had allowed Elizabeth Bennet to come into possession of a husband who loved her, body and soul, and an estate with an income too large for her to account for, but she still carried herself as she always did. Clad in her night gown with a thin robe of lace around her, Elizabeth stood in the doorway of Mary's room to greet her. Mary woke to the piercing eyes that long ago had captivated Fitzwilliam Darcy into love staring into her own eyes of equal darkness. To see her sister scrutinize her, as if making out her character, Mary sat up and ran a hand through her long hair, and returned the same interpretive gaze.

Before such a moment passed between the two, neither had thought the other possessed any similar qualities to their own. Though they both expressed their opinions openly and with the most intrepid air, their opinions often clashed and served only to further accentuate their differences. Where Elizabeth had a charm about her, despite her brazenness, Mary's own remarks were often cause of a feeling of aloofness on her part, a pretentious attitude that made many avoid her conversation and companionship.

The transfiguration of her sister left an overwhelming impact on Elizabeth, and she felt as if she were looking at a younger replica of herself, though Mary had not half the handsome features Elizabeth and her other sisters shared. Piercing eyes looked at her with such self-assurance and in such an unperturbed manner that Elizabeth smiled at how her younger sister was still so able to carry herself audaciously at ease.

"I do not think I have received such a look from you before, Lizzie." Mary shifted so her legs dangled from her bed. "Do you not recognize your own sister?"

"I dare say I thought you someone else," Elizabeth could not conceal her surprise. "Whatever has happened to you, Mary?"

"My sisters have all left me for love and marriage to deal with mama alone," Mary smiled and looked down. "I suppose that alone gives leave for a person to change, as does the progression of time. I, too, must certainly undergo some alterations in order to be in such a position as you all someday."

"Do you honestly believe that? I do not think you one to sacrifice yourself to please others."

"Is not everything we do in life part of our own complaisance?"

"Goodness, if you plan to make a mockery of all that I say, I shall depart for a better investment of my time, Mary."

"I did not mean to exasperate you," Mary laughed. "But I must say I find your reaction far more satisfactory than mama's, for you make no reference to your poor nerves."

"If ever such a remark passes my lips, I give permission to all those around to slap me." Elizabeth shook her head. "I see a change within you, and I swear you are a new person."

"People are too apt to prejudices," Mary remarked. "But, in addition, they are just as apt to watch such prejudices dissipate with the progression of time."

"Now there is the sister I know well enough," Elizabeth gestured for Mary to stand. "Perhaps after such inquiries, we may join the other inhabitants of this home? I feel we have been absent for far too long, and creatures like husbands are, to use your terminology, _apt _to take such an absence for neglect."

* * *

"This is Mary, brother." Georgiana tugged on Mr. Darcy's arm. "She is very much like your Elizabeth, I have come to learn. She and I are soon to become very good friends."

"I have been in your acquaintance before," Mr. Darcy bowed. "It is a pleasure to have you at Pemberley."

"You would think he would be not so cordial to family," Elizabeth remarked. "You are amongst family and friends. Shall you proceed to address them with the same polite aloofness as you do at other social functions?"

"Your sister finds a great many pleasures in carping about my faults," Mr. Darcy told Mary.

"You would think after so much time, the poor man may take leave to end such habits." Elizabeth commented. "But what might I know of the matter? I am only his wife, and hold no influence in his life."

"Quite contraire, my dear, you hold all the influence in my life." Mr. Darcy enveloped Elizabeth in his arms.

Up until this moment, Mary had yet to realize the peculiarity of the entire scene before her. Her, the Darcy's, and Bingley's were all within the sitting room. Jane and Mr. Bingley were smiling on their own settee, dressed in colors of the spring. They sat perfectly at ease, ready for the day with their pleasant appearance and countenance. The Darcy's were standing, Georgiana with her hands clasped, and Elizabeth in Fitzwilliam Darcy's arms. All of them were still in their night gowns except Mr. Darcy, who was dressed as in starch, though his softening facial expression evoked a sentiment that contrasted with that of his outfit.

And so the morning reunion passed, completely in comfort, with the couples resting against one another on their own settee as Mary and Georgiana curled up on the rug in the center of the great room. Servants emerged every hour, the first to rekindle the fire, the next to open the dark velvet curtains to cast the room in illumination, and the third to provide them with nourishment of the finest sort. It was as a scene depicted in a painting of a family in perfect contentment, and one in which none could deny the joy and utmost sincerity of all the inhabitants.

"How is mama?" Elizabeth asked. "I do wonder if she is not bored to death with no daughters left to marry off."

"She is as busy as ever with finding me a suitor," Mary answered. "It is the primary purpose of her life since you all left me with her, but I suppose her perseverance should be revered."

"And papa? Is he well?"

"He feels no more trouble with his daughters being married off as he has in the past."

"I am glad to know life at home has not changed at all," Elizabeth laughed. "I suppose mama could not have asked for a better marriage for any of her daughters if she had several lifetimes to plan it all out."

"Now she has the task of marrying me off," Mary smiled and then frowned. "I wonder why she does not give up such thoughts and take satisfaction in having four daughters well off. I do not mind such a life as that offered in being alone."

"Alone? What a dreadful thought!" Georgiana explained. "Why, Mary, we _must _do something about you. We must present you to society. No, we mustpresent society to you!"

"Present society to me?"

"Of course! We must show you that there be not so much humdrum as often depicted in society. There is much to be enjoyed out there, and perhaps such elations were denied you until this verymoment."

"I assure you I have not been deprived in the least bit from such trifles."

"Oh, but we _must _do something about that." Georgiana ignored Mary's last remark and turned to her brother. "And what better way for Mary to become acquainted with all that is good than through a ball?"

"You shall plan the event, Georgiana." Mr. Darcy informed.

"A ball?" Mary sat erect. "Oh, no, anything but a ball…"

"We shall have the finest music and everyone shall be invited! I shall pick out the food and tell the servants today and send word into town by nightfall. And of course Kitty shall be called for…"

"Kitty? Please, you need not do all of this for me."

"It shall be our delight," Georgiana smiled. "I believe it be about time you had your share of jollity, Mary. It will be a great opportunity to meet new people."

"I am perfectly content with those that I already know."

"Nonsense, there is always room enough to meet more people."

"I do appreciate your sincerity, but… a _ball_?" Mary shook at the thought. "Please, if you have any consideration for me…"

"It shall give us an opportunity to go into town," Georgiana informed with a wink. "We may go to buy a gown this very afternoon."

"Shopping? I am not one to find delight in such a task."

"Then I must change that about you," Georgiana giggled. "Do not worry, Mary, darling, we are ensured to have the greatest time. I will ring up a servant to help you ready yourself."

"Ready myself?"

"We cannot go into town looking as such," Georgiana replied, implying the fact they still wore their night gowns.

"Though we spent half the day clad like this already?"

"I believe it about time we changed out of them."

And so, without much reluctance on her part, Mary Bennet followed a servant to her room to dress for her trip into town with Georgiana Darcy.


	4. Volume I Part 4

**AN: **So I thought I would introduce three new characters in this chapter. Hope you enjoy them. Not many more new ones to come along from here. Not sure when I will be able to update again, but I will try to update every week. Thought I would also do a slight transfiguration of Mary's appearance for this chapter. Please forgive me, if you find this offensive. It is a small adaptation that will not be too constant.

* * *

**7**

Unable to wear her own clothes, the servant assigned to Mary had retrieved a gown from Georgiana's room. In a gown that matched the warm, cloudless sky, Mary felt outside herself in such an apparel of lace and ribbon. Her hair, pulled near out of her scalp so that Mary's eyes watered, was bound into hot curlers so that they escaped to frame her face. Powder pressed to her cheeks and her lips painted felt unusual and foreign, and the middle Bennet daughter had to play with a ribbon at her waist so as not to jump so terribly when her face was touched.

"Mary?" naturally, Georgiana Darcy wore a gown of yellow, casting her in more light. "Oh my, I dare say I thought you someone else!"

"A good or bad someone?" Mary inquired.

"One who is irrevocably good, of course!" Georgiana laughed. "Why, you are positively a sight!"

"Is this me? No, certainly you must be jesting. This be not the girl I know. This is…"

Mary's remarks faded as she saw her reflection in a large oval mirror beside her vanity. Her hair, transfiguring itself from a thin, limp mess of plainness into a voluptuous mass of curls, added the necessary depth to make it appear larger than it truly was. Her large features that she never quite grew into now accentuated a beauty Mary had never before known. Rouge lips and cheeks complimented the milky color of her skin, which then complimented dark eyes that were much like Elizabeth Bennet's. Her nose provide her face with perfect symmetry, and Mary placed a finger upon it, as if to see that it might fall off with the rest of her face back into the usual homely countenance she had come to accept throughout her life.

"This cannot be me," Mary shook her head, her hands slowly moving about her face, to her brow and nose and mouth, to confirm the opposite of her statements. "I… I am not one to be beautiful. I… I am plain. I do not possess such looks that all my sisters share. I must be deceiving myself. I could not be half so beautiful as this mirror paints me to be."

"Oh, but you _are_ beautiful, Mary!" Georgiana smiled. "I must admit I was quite stunned at your change in your outward appearance, but I see the Mary I know so well, though we have known each other only a day. I dare say, I never before saw a girl with such features as your own."

"I am sure many a girl would be grateful for not being bestowed such a close resemblance to myself," Mary replied. "For I never before saw myself look so wonderful as I do now, and I know not what to do with myself, or to believe it be so good to be true."

"It is as true as can be, Mary darling." Georgiana reassured. "One might be surprised of the magic that might be experienced with a bit of curl to the hair and some pretty make-up to bring out one's features to their advantage. Fortunate for you that all your features are perfectly lovely."

"I cannot believe this is me." Mary stared at herself, waiting to see the reflection she knew so well stare back.

"My word, you are a pragmatic girl, Mary. I know not why you are so unconvinced with logic, especially that which is staring right back at you."

"Can I honestly help it, when I never before saw myself look as such?" Mary covered her mouth to hide her broad smile. "It is as if I am a new person."

"Perhaps it be a new day for Mary Bennet?" Georgiana suggested.

"It is certainly a day of firsts," Mary admitted. "First reunions. First mornings dressed in a night gown. First afternoon spending near close to two and a half hours of torture preparing myself for the day. First time I stare in the mirror and not have a need for improvement in my appearance…"

"And I know there shall be even more first times for you soon enough!" Georgiana clapped her hands. "We still must go into town. Oh, Mary, imagine the looks you shall receive!"

"Looks?"

"Why, naturally every man there will be unable to deny your beauty."

"And whyever should that matter?"

"Certainly you are not ignorant to the fact that beauty incites such interests as to make men's hearts flutter."

"I almost forgot of the aesthetic society I am bound within."

"Perhaps now, after much contemplation of your undeniable beauty, we shall depart for town?" Georgiana reminded. "I very much think your recent change in looks deserves much praise and regards, but I suppose we should limit them, so as to prevent any vanity from arising."

"Nice suggestion," Mary nodded. "I suppose all that is left to do is enter town."

"We shall have the most exciting time! I am sure you will find it perfectly satisfactory."

"I am sure I shall find it to be very interesting indeed."

* * *

Town was the same no matter its location. The size and contents of the area might differ, but the streets are always crowded and the air is always full of talk of gossip, fashion, couples, and social events. Men might line up the streets on a dull afternoon to observe women shopping for the latest gowns of the season and admire their beauty with wide eyes. Mothers would dress up their children in the pursuit of perhaps having them meet another willing to join them in matrimony. It was a place of constant occurrence and one in which very seldom did it remain monotonous and empty.

At first, Mary Bennet was unaccustomed to such gazes from men. Even those men that she would never associate herself with, wicked beings who pursued only temporary excitement from a willing companion, caused her to blush in flattery of anyone's attention directed her way in such a look of interest. It was a moment in which she had stepped into a situation of her own imagination, living a fantasy in which not even her own logical mind could construe.

"My, I daresay every man in all of Derbyshire cannot restrain their eyes from you, Mary!" Georgiana giggled, pointing across the carriage and directing the servants to stop. "Perhaps we shall receive more excitement if we walk."

"Where are we heading?" Mary asked. "I do not know this town, and I do not wish to get lost when I am a stranger even to myself today."

"Nonsense, you are the same Mary as ever," Georgiana replied. "I am directing us to this shop where we might purchase the loveliest gowns. Mrs. Barnaby is the kind of woman who extends her motherhood to encompass all who step inside her store. You can expect her to provide you with the best gown to compliment your good features and to do it in a respectable way that shall not make you appear too scandalous."

"Are the gowns expensive?"

"Price is not part of our worries today, Mary." Georgiana told her with a smile. "Consider it all as a gift for a sister. Rather, I give you permission to feel worry over which man here you would prefer as an escort to the ball. You may choose more than one, if you wish." Georgiana giggled. "Certainly you could have all of town take you looking as you do today. I suppose that should be your primary thought of the day."

"I do promise it shall be the only thought that might ever pass through this head of curls today," Mary remarked, wishing to strip herself now of her latest façade.

"We are here," Georgiana stopped, unaware of Mary's previous statement. "There is much assortment, and if we do not find a dress to your taste here, we most certainly are able to search elsewhere. The day is at your disposal."

"Georgiana Darcy!"

Mrs. Barnaby was a woman with a rounded figure, accumulated after the birth of seven sons. Her inability to produce a daughter provided her with an urge to expand her whims, affections, and compassions to the young girls who entered her store. Occasionally, her son's wives might appear to assist her, for they all were part of the business, but such instances were rare, since Mrs. Barnaby's overzealous persona often arose a feeling of vexation if exposed to her for too long.

"It has been awhile since last I came," Georgiana received the woman's warm hug with pleasure. "I have brought a friend. She is my sister. Her elder sister, Elizabeth, has married my brother, and she is to stay with us for a fortnight, possibly more if I can persuade her."

"_Another_ Bennet?" the woman greeted Mary with just as large of a hug. "Why, if only I had had such luck! _Five_ daughters! And here I am, unable to produce even _one_. Were not you girls a few years older, I might have paired you up with my boys. They are all married now, which is most unfortunate, since all of the Bennet girls that have come into my acquaintance have been most delightful."

"I am glad that you approve of my family," Mary answered. "And it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, no child, the pleasure is always my own." The woman placed a hand to her heart. "I take much delight in meeting new people, especially young women, for I wish I might call them my own. I so dreadfully wanted a daughter. Of course, Mr. Barnaby never minded such a deprivation, but I suppose most men would have no more want of children after seven sons, especially if the next be a girl. I never had a sister, you see, and I always did want that connection associated with one of the same sex, but such fortune never presented itself in my life. I love my boys, there is no denying that, but how I dote on the idea of having my own girl. Oh, if only Mr. Barnaby had been more willing to have children after Jonathan. It is not as if he is the one to go into labor for the eighth time if ever I had another child."

"Perhaps there is time still to have another child?" Mary suggested, unsure of what she might say to console her.

"But there is never another chance! With my youngest four and twenty, there be no more time to raise children. The only babies I shall be seeing are my grandchildren, and I suppose I might find solace in that, for one of the seven girls should be able to produce me a granddaughter eventually. I dare say I shall spoil her rotten."

Mrs. Barnaby laughed and leaned against the counter, enveloping herself in a moment of silence and dreams for the future before she returned to the reality presented before her. When her eyes fixated upon Mary, she smiled and adjusted the measuring tape she had draped around her neck.

"I suppose I have gone on enough of my dreams, but every one of my customers knows well enough that such occurrences might come along during their visits and that if they wish to avoid them, they need only tell me to cease my rambling." She moved behind the counter and proceeded to bury her hands in a drawer. "I know I placed those pins somewhere in here. It is of the greatest necessity that I clean out these drawers. I do not even recall last I organized this area. I certainly neglected my poor workstation most terribly."

"She enjoys talking, whether it is to someone or herself." Georgiana whispered. "She does not expect us to stand and listen. We may go off and look at the gowns, if you wish."

"Please, take me away." Mary gave the babbling woman one last look of bemusement before following Georgiana to the opposite end of the store. "She is certainly one of the most colorful woman I have ever met, and I cannot bear to imagine what cacophony might arise if ever she comes into acquaintance with mama."

"Can you imagine, Edward?" Mary could hear the door slam open. "The carriage breaks and we are struck in a town we wish not be to in, and then, after a day, decide to stay a bit longer. It is the most ironic thing, I do declare."

"You truly are binding me against my will, dear sister." a young man laughed. "For I was in much haste to make it to London."

"Whatever for?" the woman questioned. "Our home may wait a few more days, I know not what the fuss is all about."

"There is nothing you might possibly say to provide me with any inclination to tell you," he laughed once more. "For the business is a private one, and one in which no amount of carping or cajoling may produce."

"Whatever may suit your fancy, for I am through with the matter."

"My, one would think that they own the store." Georgiana remarked to Mary. "I can hear them going on from across the store."

"And I cannot hear you?" the girl's voice grew louder. "Honestly, the rude and arrogant people of this town! Whyever did we enter this wretched place? I suppose one cannot expect much from a town who wishes to appear to be high and mighty. It is a town full of people too poor to afford life in London, so I suppose I should not have expected any better."

"Unfortunate for her that our family's fortune extends to a lovely estate in London, as it does to my Aunt's estate in Rosings." Georgiana challenged, and such a change passed over this young woman that she grew red in the face with exasperation. "But there be no reason to prove anything, when I am quite confident that no such simpleton could possibly be in possession of a fortune that exceeds my own."

"Do you _hear_ her, Edward? She has the audacity…"

"Do not get so riled up in matters…"

"For heavens sake, allow me to finish my statements. I do not think she might possibly think her better endowed than we, but we need not pay heed to her remarks when I am certain we are richer."

"Those with the money can afford to be taught proper manners and etiquette," Georgiana replied. "And such intricate delicacies are obviously lacking when one takes it upon themselves to boast of riches and wealth and allow themselves to be perceived as discourteous and uncouth."

"I am through with her!" a door came to a slam.

"And I did not think Derbyshire had its own fulfillment of excitement," Mary laughed. "Nor did I think I would ever see Georgiana Darcy grow angered by the presence of a silly girl. Why, I wonder how you survived and maintained such tolerance with my younger sisters visiting Pemberley."

"Georgiana?"

A young man emerged from behind a display of some gowns.

"Edward? Edward Pendleton?" Georgiana grinned and skipped towards him, her previous anger long dissipated. "Whatever brings you to Derbyshire? You are certainly a long way from home."

"I have had my fair share of trips to London. I am off to take my sister to London, for she was bored of life up North. I apologize for her behavior."

"She is very silly, Edward. I did not think your own sister capable of a display of such ridiculousness."

"Those with nothing to boast of themselves must seek approval through the materialism that thrives in society," Mary remarked, her need to remind display herself surpassing her want to remain silent. "When there be nothing to recommend yourself to another, one must then begin the praise of such things as wealth and to say such praise with a haughty condescension so that they can be nothing but unappealing."

"I doubt that was my sister's intentions."

"She intended to appear superior, and her only such means might have been through her own family's fortune," Mary challenged the man. "Unfortunately for her, she appeared very puerile."

"Who are you?" he demanded. "I do not wish to debate, believe me my intentions are quite peaceful. I mean only to say greetings to an old friend and make amends for my sister's behavior, for it was inappropriate."

"Inappropriate? I thought her quite friendly, did you not, Georgiana?" Mary was in no mood for such delays in the task at hand, when she wished to depart away as soon as possible. "You may catch yourself up with your old acquaintance, Georgiana, but I shall now decide upon a gown, if you might allow it."

"Most certainly," Georgiana nodded before turning to converse with the man with a smile.

"And the dream is shattered into reality," Mary shook her head. "No amount of powder and paint might conceal my character of chastising."

**8**

Edward Pendleton was a young man of mid-twenties, whose parents had passed when he was eighteen and left him with a vast fortune and two estates in Northern and Southern England. He had grown up in the country up North in Yorkshire, where he was left to spend dull days of the summer in town with country boys, investing his time in play in the North York moors or afternoons at the South bay in Scarborough. Though he was undeniably a gentleman, he had a boyish air about him only bestowed upon him through his youth in surroundings of a country life and not that of noble gentility.

He had come into the acquaintance of Georgiana Darcy when he had first moved to his London estate with his sister when he had turned twenty. There with her Aunt, Georgiana had met him at a supper with the Dorchester's of London and he had become particularly favorable with her Aunt. He had been a frequent visitor of Rosings when she was younger, though it was not until a year ago that they began to develop their own relationship.

As Georgiana giggled with her new friend, Mary went to the far corner of the store, her previous fervor macerated with her frustration. She could have remained patient when he arrived and allowed Georgiana her reunion, but she had felt the need to recommend herself before her friend did by pursuing some display of intellect or wit, rather than win his acquaintance with her newly developed beauty. Unfortunately, Mr. Pendleton had not taken an interest in Mary's remarks, and the stab at her pride shattered her previous enhancement of confidence provided by her sudden transfiguration into a belle. The minute interest Mary had in remaining in town was gone, and she wished to find a gown and be rid of this adventure, for it had provided her with nothing but the usual disappointment.

"Is there a gown that you are particularly interested in?" Mrs. Barnaby approached Mary with a smile. "A certain style or color that you wish to have?"

"Perhaps you might find some gowns to recommend me, to help me decide? I have not the slightest inclination as to what I desire of a gown."

"Of course, child." Mrs. Barnaby nodded. "How about you change in the room in the back and I shall find you some gowns that will make you a star?"

"Any dress will do, I need not something extraordinary."

Left in a corset in a back room, Mary tried dress after dress, and grew impatient at all the bright gowns that stuck out with fabric overlapping in bundles and ribbons trailing down her back. Her desire for a simple gown was in vain, for Mrs. Barnaby always produced a gown as elaborate as the next. After a dozen dresses were tried, Mary demanded that she had no need of a dress that recommended herself in such splendor and wished for only a simple gown that was not bright, nor possessed more ribbons than she could count, or enough fabric and lace to render her immobile.

Mrs. Barnaby did as she was instructed and obtained a gown of a deep sapphire blue, and one in which Mary could not have matched in her mind. Though a simple gown of silk, with no layers of fabric to create an over accentuated, curvaceous figure, the slim gown hugged her body, and fell in a deep pool of fabric at her feet, trailing behind her a deep ocean. Straps fell off her small shoulders to the side, and the top lining of the gown was cast in small crystals that shimmered and sparkled, playing small lights across the exposed skin of her collarbone. The only ribbon of the dress tied at the waist accentuated a rather large ribbon in the small of her back that fell to the bottom of her dress and trailed behind her with the train.

"Heavens child, I do not think there could be a finer match for you." Mrs. Barnaby breathed. "You be a fine piece of heaven for some young man, I am sure of it. Why, I already thought you handsome enough walking through my door today with dear Georgiana, but now it is with the utmost certainty that I do not think I have seen a finer looking young woman before in my entire life."

"I do appreciate your appraisal," Mary set a hand to her hart, looking down at the sparkling fabric her fingers traced and back at her reflection. "But I am not handsome lady, especially the most handsome."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Barnaby replied. "You look like a queen in all her regality, poise, and magnificence."

"I am but a dream," Mary sighed at her reflection. "A blissful, silly dream."

* * *

"Mary!" Jane exclaimed when she entered where she and Mr. Bingley sat reading. "My, just look at you!"

"Thank you," Mary smiled weakly. "It is certainly a lovely mask, do you not think?"

"A mask, heavens, this is you, dear." Jane laughed and rose to give her sister a hug. "You look absolutely beautiful, Mary."

"It does surprise me how young ladies can always manage to become more handsome," Mr. Bingley laughed. "You look exquisite."

"Oh, I can only imagine what mama would think!" Jane held Mary's face in her hands. "You look as you have always done, and yet there is something new about you."

"Be it my hair and this paint?" Mary suggested.

"Shall you be doing yourself up as you have today for the ball?" Jane inquired. "I do not think you to have an ounce of difficulty at the ball to find a partner, looking as you do today."

"I think I shall not put myself through such trouble again," Mary replied.

"Whyever not?" Georgiana walked through the door. "You look marvelous today, Mary, and all the looks you received today! Was it not nice to have?"

"I would much prefer to recommend myself through presenting myself as I am."

"Mary, darling," Jane held Mary's hand and led her to sit beside her. "Do not think that by a bit of powder and some more curls, you are an entirely new person. Believe me, you shall forevermore be the Mary we all love and adore, no matter if you do nothing at all to your appearance, or spend hours to perfect it."

"Perfection cannot be achieved by the enhancement of beauty," Mary pursed her lips at the thought. "What an abominable ideal!"

"You need not do a bit more to yourself for the ball."

"I fear I shall have a miserable time."

"Oh, no, Mary, I shall make it pleasant for you." Georgiana reassured. "You shall dance until you cannot feel your feet, and meet the most delightful people! And you shall look stunning and enjoy your time immensely."

"For the lack of feeling in my body and the acquaintance of such people as that woman at Mrs. Barnaby's is certainly the best I may possibly ask for at a ball," Mary looked away to avoid the expressions of all in the room. "I wish much more for books and a comfortable chair in which to retire myself for a day."

"Goodness, is that all?" Georgiana laughed. "Why, Mary, if that was all that you desired, you need only tell me! Pemberley is known for its library. It is one of the finest, and with such a grandiose collection, you are sure to find a book to your liking."

"The majority of fine literature is to my liking."

"Perhaps I might take you there for the remainder of the day?" Georgiana proposed.

"It is the first proposal you have made to day that I am most willing to comply to."

* * *

**AN: **I hope these past two chapters were to your liking. Next two chapters are the Pemberley ball. Do not forget to review about what you thoughtof it all. It is all taken in with much appreciation.

* * *


	5. Volume I Part 5

**AN: **Okay, so this chapter takes a major shift for Mary, and a big surprise. There will be many many more surprises though in the future for her. :) Tell me what you think, please. Hope I didn't keep you all waiting for too long.

* * *

**9**

The ball arrived to everyone's delight, and guests arrived by the handful, lining up outside the Pemberley estate with much enthusiasm and anticipation. Servants had been bustling about for forty-eight hours prior to the event, cooking food and making sure the decorum would be to everyone's particular enjoyment. An orchestra of strings and other various instruments were nestled on the alcove above the ballroom, so that the room might be filled with their music in every corner. Ribbons twirled from the ceiling, long silk drapes and velvet curtains that made it all appear as a fantasy before your very eyes.

"My, look at the hall!" a woman pointed to her husband. "I do wonder how long it takes them to decorate such an estate for an event like this, my dear. I do declare, they must have been planning this for a month, at the least."

"Brother, have you seen Mary?" Georgiana tugged upon her brother's arm as he and Elizabeth Bennet greeted their guests. "I have been off in pursuit of her all evening and she is no where to be found."

"Have you checked the library?" Elizabeth questioned. "I am most certain she is hiding there behind some book of hers and she has lost the time."

"But does she not realize she must be ready?"

"Mary was never one to care for such trifles as balls, Georgiana." Elizabeth informed. "If she has not lost track of time, she is spending her evening there in hopes of missing this event."

"Oh, but I must fetch her!" Georgiana ran off through the crowd, causing Mr. Darcy to chuckle.

"She does try so to win Mary's favor," Mr. Darcy remarked. "I do hope the poor girl is not working towards a lost cause."

"That is my sister you speak of, if I need remind you." Elizabeth responded softly as she shook hands with a family with a smile.

* * *

Mary Bennet had been awoken early by the servants, who thought it best to ready her at the crack of dawn, so that they need not be bothered by her the rest of the day. Half asleep, Mary had felt as if she were in a nightmare, being pulled at and prodded and touched so as to turn her into the beauty she had grown to hate. Such a transfiguration seemed not worth the work, and she felt that sleep deprivation need not be a price for a day of beauty.

Upon her freedom, clad in her gown for the night with a borrowed necklace of sapphires from Georgiana, Mary sat in a huge armchair facing the fire in the library. A stack of books rested in front of the great chair, and she sat sideways, with her back resting on one of the arms of the chair, and her legs dangling from the other. A large novel rested in her lap and was held up by her legs like her body was molded into a book holder to display the pages to her.

"Of course you must spend your evening locked about amongst your books, Mary!" Georgiana exclaimed, marching over fervently. "Why, half of the house is filled with people, and you yet here you are, continuing on as if there be no ball to attend. Why, this is all for you, after all, Mary, and it would be immeasurably rude if you did not attend your own ball."

"Is it time for the ball to start?" Mary looked above her book begrudgingly. "There be not enough hours in the day to do as we wish with it."

"Had you all the time in the world, you would still be up here, Mary."

"I never said it would not be the truth."

"Well, you _must_ come along now. I shall not step a foot into the crowd lest you join me."

"Can we not wait a bit longer?" Mary suggested. "I do wish to finish this."

"You are not half through it, and I have not the patience to wait any longer." Georgiana strutted over and pulled Mary up. "Come now, and let us bless them all with our presence."

"I am no Saint to be blessing anyone, I do promise you."

"I meant not a Saint," Georgiana giggled. "More like an angel, do you not think so?"

"Any angel brought about by hours of paint and burnt hair and powder and ribbons and, perhaps, a few pounds of silk." Mary remarked. "I doubt that could constitute as any natural angel."

The ball before them was far too formal for most tastes, but there was no denying that it matched up well to the taste of Mary, who wished for life to be of more order and logic. Men took to the women quite rapidly, and pairs were immediately formed and concentrated in the ballroom. Women alone sat in the next room, chattering endlessly in order to forget the present circumstances and lack of attention from the opposite sex. Occasionally, a man would grow bored of his partner and send her to the room, and there was a girl or two who cried in the corner for a broken heart at being tossed aside so unfeelingly.

No one from before might have identified Mary Bennet as the girl from Derbyshire who carried no beauty about her yet held herself with an air of condescension. Now, she appeared only as a girl of vast wealth, who had reason to hold her head high amongst a crowd. Her dark gown put an emphasis on her in a room of spring colors in light hues, and many men's eyes were fixated upon her, as she sat with Georgiana as an enigma to them all.

"I do wonder why no one is asking you yet, Mary." Georgiana held Mary's hands and giggled ceaselessly. "Perhaps they are to shy to approach you, for fear of rejection. It is a common fear of men, you know, to be rejected by a beautiful lady. They do not like to have their pride so easily demolished, and are no doubt threatened by your very presence."

"You paint me as a monster who might devour all men in her sight," Mary commented. "I think I dislike standing here alone as a beauty far more than I did when I be nothing but a plain girl, for at least then I knew the cause of me standing beside myself."

"You are not alone this time, Mary." Georgiana squeezed her hand. "I am most willing to spend my evening with you."

"Do not deny yourself the joys of this event on account of me," Mary told her. "I will not have it."

"Oh, but I shall not have a sprite of jollity if you sit here alone throughout the night."

Edward Pendleton had stood opposite the two young ladies, talking with a group of men in regards to business. However, as he stared at Georgiana, he came to feel an attachment towards her partner, who sat erect and with an astute air he could perceive even from the distance with which he stood. He could see many a dozen men who stared at her as well, and he smiled to know that such men would only do that the entire evening, for she seemed too beautiful to disturb.

Though he had not exchanged more than a few words with her, he knew already of her intellect. She was a lady who tried hard to present herself in a display of intelligence, and who would not be tolerant of condescending remarks or actions from the opposite sex, or those of her own. Her beauty, as undeniable as it was, seemed to be a trait she was entirely ignorant of, or chose not to acknowledge, for she did not notice the myriad of eyes that were captivated by her very presence in the room. Many a man nodded in approval of her choice of attire, and Edward found himself doing the same, for she seemed a mystery that must be presented in deep colors, and bright, vibrant colors in light hues would not do her the justice in exhibiting herself in all her enigmatic ways.

"If you may excuse me," Edward left his company to smile down at Georgiana and her friend. "Good evening, Miss Georgiana."

"Edward!" Georgiana stood instantaneously and hold out a hand. "I did not know you would attend the ball."

"I thought I might delay my trip a bit longer if it would allow me the opportunity to be in your friendly presence once more," he grinned and bowed. "Unfortunately, my sister did not wish to be prevented any longer and departed soon after our trip to the dressmaker's."

"I do not blame her. I suppose she would not wish to be in the presence of the Darcy family after our first meeting."

"I suppose not," Edward chuckled and looked at Mary. "Good evening, might I introduce myself to you?"

"I see no objection to it," Mary answered coldly, so that Georgiana gave her a look of warning. "Of course, I would be delighted to make your acquaintance."

"I am Edward Pendleton," he bowed to Mary, and looked up with a smile. "I am very closely affiliated with the Darcy bloodline. Lady Catherine De Bourgh herself is of close connection with myself, and I am honored to be able to call her Aunt, upon my visits to Rosings."

"I see," Mary nodded her head, unsure of any other way to respond to his references of himself. "I am Mary Bennet of Derbyshire and little ranking. That is all I have to recommend myself, I suppose."

"Might you delight me with a dance, Miss Bennet?" Edward's smile broadened with her response and he became instantly intrigued by this Bennet.

"I see no objection to it," Mary stood up and joined him in the crowd.

"Might I start by complimenting you on your beauty, Miss Bennet?"

"If it pleases you to compliment me."

"Of course, but does it not please you to be complimented?" Edward inquired.

"I suppose it might, but my vanity does not lie within my looks, Mr. Pendleton."

"Might I recommend you call me Edward, since I desire to become better acquainted with you in the future?" Edward suggested. "I hope I am not presenting myself as far too forward for your tastes."

"It is of no opposition of mine," Mary answered. "If a person has intentions, I suppose it be logical to save themselves the time and worry and be done with the matter as soon as possible."

"You make it seem as love be merely a business," Edward laughed.

"But is love not the business of the heart?" Mary responded, already bored with her fraternization. "Might I inquire your designs of asking me to dance, Mr. Pendleton, or Edward, if you will, when you had no such interest in me prior to this ball? Why, you had not a word to say to me when we first met but to correct my statements in regards to your sister."

"You must understand that I have an obligation to defend my family."

"If there is something to defend," Mary replied. "However, your sister was displaying herself as a supercilious charlatan."

"Miss Bennet! I must say that I cannot tolerate you speaking of my sister in such a manner."

"Than I do not come to understand your designs to ask me to dance, when you are quite aware that my opinions in regards to your sister is far from fond."

"And how might I have been aware?"

"Have you no sense of observation the day we met?"

"Your impertinence is quite unattractive, Miss Bennet."

"Perhaps this dance was a means of insulting me?" Mary suggested. "Your opportunity of revenge to affront and cause injury to me?"

"I am not one, madam, to slight a lady."

"Then I suppose you disregard your _unattractive_ statement?" Mary challenged. "I suppose that in regards to us, all we might allow pass between us is quarrels and disputes?"

"Only if we will it, Miss Bennet."

"Is that not what we will it now as we speak?"

"My, you certainly enjoy to challenge authority."

"You surely are not indicating you hold any authority over me, do you, Mr. Pendleton?" Mary cocked her head and laughed. "I know well your kind."

"My kind?" Edward grew bemused at her response. "Please inform me, Miss Bennet, of what my kind might possibly be."

"You," Mary began, "are one of those men who find the necessity in presenting yourself in some grandiose fashion, in all your wit and good fashions, as a means of influencing others to approve of your very being and character. In all your attempts of displaying sensibility, you find it imprudent to acknowledge the opinions of others if they are of discrepancy with your own, and feel disregard towards all discords, and possibly find them particularly favorable if they provide you with the means to further display some degree of intelligence or superiority. Unfortunate for you, Mr. Pendleton, that I am not a peacock that will be led to a cage like many women in this room. If you wish for a partner who might indulge your ignorance to the truth before your very eyes, you speak with the wrong lady, for I am not one to deny myself the logic and good sense that was bestowed upon me to acquiesce to your absurd claims. If you look for compliance, seek your partners elsewhere, for I am certainly not that lady."

"Miss Bennet!" Edward called after her as she dissolved into the crowd.

* * *

**10**

The ball proceeded as it will, and Georgiana had many a pleasant dance with an agreeable gentleman. Mary, after departing for an hour, returned in fear of Georgiana fetching her once more, at which she was welcomed with a line of suitors desiring her presence in the ballroom. Her previous fervor was gone, and she provided dull company, for her argument with Mr. Pendleton had her tiresome of the company of the opposite sex for the evening, and she wished to be locked up in the library amongst more agreeable company than that which surrounded her.

At the end of the room, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth danced, very much enjoying their company, and enjoying laughs over their first dance at Netherfield Park. Such fond memories of their old relationship provided them with much laughs, and the possibility that before they might not have been together allowed them to savor their wedlock. The Bingley's were all smiles, and departed soon after to walk the grounds, for they wished for an intimate air and only wanted the other as company.

The following day, Mary woke with her hair still half-up, with large curls framing her face once more. She scurried outdoors before the servants might enter and force her to submit into readying herself in the usual display. Though she was still of great beauty, despite the lack of powder and her plain gown from home, her reflection displayed more of her old self that she came to appreciate. Her beauty had painted her to be merely a molding, an empty doll where there be nothing else inside her, and nothing else to her but porcelain, paint, and silk. The surprise of others when she made a cerebral statement caused annoyance to her, and she knew then that no amount of beauty might outweigh her fondness forher intellect, for at least the intellect she possessed was of her own cultivation and hard work, whereas the latter was nothing but a visage of make-up and fabric.

"Soon the dream shall end," Mary sighed, sitting before the great fountain in front of Pemberley. "Mama will wish to present me to Mr. Gallagher, and I suppose I shall eventually find the necessity to submit to one of her demands of marriage, otherwise I shall always be some display to the world, as a dress in the front window, waiting to be bought. I shall be likely to sit and grow dust upon my skin. Rather I be myself and have another desire me in all of my imperfections than deny myself the freedom of my individuality. I shall never be of the crowd."

"Miss Bennet?"

"Mr. Pendleton!" Mary stood abruptly and hurried away.

"Why do you flee from me?"

"Why do I flee?" Mary turned and marched towards him with a ferocity that caused Edward to take a step back. "Perhaps you are able to account the events of the previous night? Do you think them to provide me the means to smile with reluctance upon your presence?"

"I did not mean to insult you, though it ended up so." Edward apologized. "Nor did I come here to insult you further."

"Then might you explain to me the reasons for you visit?"

"To tell you why I asked you to dance the previous night."

"Go on."

"You captivate me, Miss Bennet." Edward told her. "Your very presence in the room at the ball was enough to attract the attention of every man within. From our first meeting, I was able to gather you were a woman of immense intellect, and that is a trait which not many woman possess, nor is the necessity to display such a trait. I do admire your ability to speak openly with others your opinion, for many conform to the wishes and vices of others in order to seek approval, however that was never your design, or at least that is the impression with which I was able to arrive from my acquaintance with you thus far. However, all of these are merely traits to add to your overall enigma, for you are a mystery to me, Miss Bennet. I have come into acquaintance with some of your sisters, and you stand out the most to me. I do fear that I might fall in love with you, Miss Bennet."

"You _fear_ you might fall in love with me?" Mary raised an eyebrow.

"I meant that not as an insult, it is just…" Edward sighed. "I have family who have plans for me already."

"You are engaged?"

"Not yet," Edward shook his head. "But, I suppose that once I arrive in London, I very well will be."

"Then why do you tell me all of this?"

"Because, if I was provided the choice, I would be engaged to you."

"To me?"

"Yes, I am very much enthralled by you, Miss Bennet, and I would be eternally grateful and happy to be in wedlock with you."

"With me?" Mary did not conceal her perplexion. "Sir, I am of no beauty. Prior to today, I have been nothing but given a mask to make me appear agreeable to the opposite sex. Do you not see I am far from my previous image this very morning?"

"All that I see, Miss Bennet, is a beauty." Edward smiled. "You are a beautiful soul."

"You know not what you say."

"I know perfectly wellthe words which I allow to surpass my lips, Miss Bennet, and they are of a developing love that continues to grow with every moment that passes in your presence. I do wish for our own engagement."

"Are you… proposing to me, Mr. Pendleton?"

"Not yet," he shook his head. "No, I must first go to London. But I wish to tell you of my intention prior to my departure this morning. I also wished to clear up our differences from the ball, for I do not wish for such a harsh feeling of resentment towards me from you. I just hope that my meeting with you right now is enough for you to wait for me."

"So you want me to wait for you?" Mary asked slowly.

"Yes, if you would be so kind." Edward nodded. "At this moment, I cannot propose, for my future meetings with family and friends must first be spoken to. But I promise you, that upon my return, I shall come to your house and renew these feelings, for I am most confident they shall be strong as ever."

"So now you depart?"

"I suppose I shall, lest I am left behind by the driver."

"Then I suppose I shall be waiting."

"Thank you, Miss Bennet." Edward bowed. "You have made me eternally grateful for your patience."

"I have waited eighteen years thus far, and I suppose a bit longer shall do no more damage to me."


	6. Volume I Part 6

**AN: **Thank you immensely to all those who have reviewed. I think it's due time that I gave you some major props.

M.L. Bennet: I am glad that you like my story. Yeah, I do find myself bored a bit at times writing about her, but I take her dullness to be as a result of her pedantic ways and just one of her initial flaws as a person. I promise to clear up Edward Pendleton's sudden promise to Mary in the near future. There is an explanation for it all.

Adrianna: Your review was very enjoyable to read. I am glad that you think my story an accurate portrayal for the most part of Jane Austen's masterpiece of characters, since that was my attempt. As I told, M.L. Bennet, I do promise that the abruptness in Edward's proposal will be explained in later chapters.

MorganisM-Lve: Your consistency in reviews has made me remain motivated in updating as soon as humaly possible. It is because of encouragements like yours that I hurry to continue my story so I don't detain you all for too long.

June W: I will be sure never to compromise Mary, and, if Edward's sister decides to meddle in their affairs, Mary shall be able to overcome it. Thank you for your avidreviews! They are all **greatly** appreciated.

Jenna: I am glad you enjoyed a new portrayal of Mary, though her new appearance will be gone for the majority of the rest of the novel, but all that she has learned in her experience will certainly be carried throughout the rest of the story. It was merely just an experience to allow her to learn a new lesson in appearances. All of your reviews were simply delightful and these kinds of reviews make me want to continue this novel at a rapid enough rate so I don't keep you all waiting forever.

Skydancinghobbit: Thank you for being consistent in your reviews as well. I will do the best that I possibly can to do Mary the justice andpairher up with a worthy gentleman that is compatible with her.

Sue: I will not say if it is Edward or not, but I will tell you that the man, whomever he may be, that falls for Mary will come to accept her without comparison with everyone else, and Mary will have no complaisance to win his approval because he will love her for who she is.

Jecir: Your review made me laugh. Thank you for making me smile.

Fluff Inc: Thank you for your reviews. Your guess is pretty accurate in who Mary is paired up with, I hope I do not spoil future chapters in this, although I cannot say if that is who she will end up with in the end.

I Die Without You: I do hope that my portrayal of Pemberley and Darcy/Elizabeth were to your liking. If I portrayed it terribly, do know that I meant not to slaughter the already perfection of Austen's work. I am only but an amateur in this, after all.

Ice Illuser: Glad that you enjoyed Jane and Bingley. I hope that I did not detain my updates too long for your tastes and that you have enjoyed the rest of this story as well.

Rubbish: I am glad you were able to catch that in my first post. I hope you found the rest of the story satisfactory as well and, if not, it would be received with much appreciation if you provided me with some advice on what needs to be improved.

thesupernugget: No scandalous relationships for Mary quite yet, I'm afraid to say. Maybe in the future?

theMouseintheoperahouse: That is truly the question... who could possibly do for her? Well, I do hope that I am able to find a good match for her by the end of this. Wish me luck!

polar: Mr. Gallagher will never be a possibility for Mary, and he merely just served as an absurd match of Mrs. Bennet's. I hope that you will approve of Mary's match, when he does come around.

g: I do hope that you enjoyed the updates and have continued with the story.

n/a: Please do continue with being intrigued. :)

**AN:** So Mary returns home again, but hopefully for not too dreadfully long of a time. I hope you enjoy my portrayal of the news of her soon-to-be-engagement. Please tell me what you think. I shall be eternally grateful.

* * *

**11**

There was never a happier creature to hear the news of Mary Bennet's promise of a proposal than Mrs. Bennet. Her constant disposition to inform all of society of the happenings of her and her family's life were ever present as she hopped around the town with a skip to her step that she did not think she might still have at such an age. To see her last daughter in need of her assistance fairing well, she saw the world in a new light, not as one in pursuit of opportunities, but as one who has finally joined in with the entirety of society. She was as she had desired to be- a woman who has managed to send all of her daughters into respectable homes and her own vanity was augmented, for she knew her own girls had found themselves in a home far beyond the comforts of normality.

"Mr. Bennet, have you heard?" Mrs. Bennet burst into the library, the pins falling out of her hair from her rapid movement. "Mary is soon to be engaged!"

"Engaged?" Mr. Bennet eyes stared at her from above his book. "My dear, as much as I feel joy for our Mary, I do feel myself growing older each moment you tell me this. I believe this is your fifth intrusion since you received the letter at dawn, and it is not yet noon."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet, how can you say such things?" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Why, I feel myself growing _younger_ thinking of our daughters so well off! I do believe I shall never tire of saying this to myself."

"Then, I do hope you do say it to yourself, and spare me the torment."

"Wait until supper time, when all of town is in a fuss over what to serve as they dine." Mrs. Bennet chortled. "I shall be sure to head towards town and share the good news!"

"I am sure, by that hour of the day, everyone this side of the country shall be informed of Mary's good fortune."

"Good fortune! Mr. Bennet, you speak lightly." Mrs. Bennet set a hand to her heart and smiled. "This promise is more than a miracle might provide. More than twenty years to have the eldest two married, and now Mary is soon to be wed and only seriously out for little less than a year! We have been most fortuitous, Mr. Bennet, to have our daughters so safely placed in this world. Do you not think so? Elizabeth with Mr. Darcy, praise the Lord for him! And Jane with Mr. Bingley, who is a very amiable gentleman, mind you, and Kitty off with that De Bourgh woman who, however odious she may be, shall provide Kitty with many opportunities to marry into high society. And, of course, there is my dear Lydia with her Mr. Wickham."

"I do not think one might call that a marriage."

"Whyever not, Mr. Bennet? Have we not given our Lydia our blessings? How dreadfully horrible it may be for a child to not have the support of her mama and papa. I do think our Lydia to be doing substantially well married to a nice gentleman like Mr. Wickham."

"That man could hardly be considered a gentleman."

"They are young and foolish, Mr. Bennet. I do hope you might not hold such characteristics against them."

"Youth does not prevent you from using good sense."

"You talk as if Lydia has not a pound of sensibility in her entire frame."

"I do question if she does."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet, how tiresome you are!" Mrs. Bennet marched to the door. "I believe I shall be off then, and leave you to your lonesome, as I am sure that is what you do pray for as I stand here before you."

"At this particularly moment, my dear, I do believe you guess correctly."

Mr. Bennet's statements towards Mrs. Bennet, however cynical they might appear, were of little vexation to her. Throughout the accumulation of years, their marriage had allowed for them to develop vast toleration for the other, in Mr. Bennet's sarcasm and Mrs. Bennet's tittle-tattle. They were able to accept the nonsensical whims of the other, and were able to produce, as a result of their actions, a lifestyle, however impersonal it may be,that had proved successful thus far.

Mary Bennet's arrival back at Hertfordshire with her parents was cheered upon and anticipated by Mrs. Bennet to the largest regard. She had called for the servants to arrange a large quantity of delicacies for supper and had sent one to purchase some imported tea of the greatest quality. Her willingness to overindulge in spenditures of her middle daughter only provided further proof of her eternal bliss towards her soon to be engagement.

In her preparation for her return home, Mary had done little to nothing. The servants at Pemberley had been most obliging in their duties and were very much appreciative of Mary's orderly ways in how she kept her room. Unlike Georgiana Darcy, who was accustomed to such privileges and did as she would to wherever she entered, Mary was meticulous in preserving a clean environment where she was inhabited, and the servants felt much gratitude towards their guest.

All objects of affluence were disposed of before her arrival, as were her lavish livings. The gown she that had transfigured her into a beauty for a night was left for dust to consume in the bordereau of her room, and mornings with powder, hot irons, and paint were to be eternally padlocked from her life. Mary, always hoping to acquire some realization or knowledge, was able, from her experience with her elder two sisters in their new lives, to accept her plain demeanor as it was. It was because of this new understanding of herself and her homely countenance that, upon first entering her home past a laughing and smiling Mrs. Bennet, she approached a mirror in the hall and grinned at her reflection.

"Oh, heavens, child, how happy I am for you! My dearest Mary, to be wed to a Pendleton!"

"Papa," Mary bowed her head when she saw Mr. Bennet standing in the doorway of his study. "It is good to see you again after so long an absence."

"Who is this man, Mary? Though Mrs. Bennet speaks as if she knows the man already, I daresay I have never heard of the family in the duration of my life."

"To speak candidly, papa, I knew not myself who he was."

"Do you know better of him now?"

"He only spoke of his fondness, and of his intentions." Mary explained. "I am most positive that we shall become better acquainted before an engagement is announced."

"It is most unfortunate that your mother has taken it upon herself to declare your engagement to all of town already."

"Mama!"

"Oh, I am most certain they shall have time to know one another, and I do doubt he shall be able to help himself in the matter once he knows Mary. They are as good as engaged, Mr. Bennet, and I do not think it unwise to spread the good news."

"Does he have any family?"

"One sister, and that is all that I know of," Mary answered. "I do know that he is especially connected with the Darcy bloodline. He is near close to a son to Lady Catherine De Bourgh."

"Most fortune for us, that you have encountered such a man as this Mr. Pendleton!" Mrs. Bennet laughed and swept her daughter into an embrace as she recalled Mary's letter. "Oh, think of your home! Two estates! Why, you shall not know what to do with such homes, and they are certain to be grand! What more might a mother ask for life to provide her daughters, Mr. Bennet? I cannot think of a better provision."

"Good grief, I do hope you find more to life than marriage and money, my dear."

"In concern towards our daughters, Mr. Bennet, it is encumbered upon me to remind you that they have not a penny towards their name once you die, and to see them all so well in life, despite this disadvantage, is all that I might ask for."

"And may they keep their good sense and morality as well," Mr. Bennet remarked before departing for the solitude of his study.

"Oh, my dearest child!" Mrs. Bennet grinned sublimely at Mary. "It is a most happy day to see you so well off in the world. I am sure you shall find the married life perfectly satisfactory, and very much indulging, especially with a husband of immense fortune and respectability as Mr. Pendleton."

"Yes, I am sure." Mary replied weakly. "Though I cannot boast of knowing much more than nothing of him."

"But he shall call for you, Mary, and then it shall all be off and you shall be off to your own wedding in due time. There be no need to fret in the matter. Men are just as impatient as us women, and he shall depart soon enough to finish the matter and be settled with it."

"You talk as if I am nothing but a slab of meat to be bought before it goes bad."

"Oh, do not trouble yourself with such thoughts, Mary! You should be in such joy right now, after meeting such a man as this Mr. Pendleton."

"Mama, you have not even met the man, and I have only been in his acquaintance thrice, and had but one true conversation with him."

"He is to be sure to be a pleasant and amiable fellow, and I see no obstruction of such a perception." Mrs. Bennet concluded. "He shall make a fine husband for you."

"And what if he does not propose?"

"_Not_? Why, _of course_ he must! He has promised to see you again."

"As do those of good acquaintance and friendship."

"No, he shall come for you, Mary, and when he does, you shall be engaged at his proposal."

"It seems you be more captivated and anticipated for this event to occur than even I."

"It is a most happy day to see my daughters married."

"You forget that there is still Kitty to be wed."

"Nonsense, Kitty is forever on my mind, Mary." Mrs. Bennet responded. "But I need not bother with worry over her, when she is sure to find a husband with her residence at Rosings Park with that woman, though dreadful she may be. And Kitty is very handsome, and does remind me so of myself at such a young age, though she is not so full of life as Lydia and myself, and I cannot think of a man who might object to her beauty."

"So all your worry in marriage rests within me, for I am unlikely to find a husband for I have no high connections nor good looks to attract attention?" Mary said this slowly, allowing the reality of her statement to settle.

"There be no time to think such thoughts Mary, for, despite your disadvantages in finding a suitor, you have and now you shall be engaged and have a decent, reputable husband and _two_ estates that are likely to be finer than Jane's and Lizzie's."

"Perhaps that is all the answer I need to my question," Mary sighed and headed upstairs to leave Mrs. Bennet to chatter about her gaiety and luck in her middle daughter's circumstances.

* * *

**12**

To be an engaged woman provides many privileges for the recipient, and Mary, though she had yet to have a formal declaration of love, nor an acceptance of such a love, was treated as thus instantaneously upon her arrival. The smiles and congratulations she received appeared almost a joke, and oft times enough she fought to conceal such laughter from presenting itself, for fear no one might take her seriously ever again.

Mrs. Bennet became more sociable than ever, speaking of her good fortunes to all who would be willing to listen. To her surprise, her mother remained unignored, and people welcomed her with delight, for all were as surprised at this sudden engagement of the plainest of the Bennet sisters. They had it fixated in their heads that Mary, though everyone knew her to be an agreeable girl who was particularly studious yet very plain, shall be most likely left for an old maid and work hard as a governess, perhaps, or some servant for room and board once Mr. Bennet passed. When such an idea was eradicated by this news, there were none who believed it at first, but as Mrs. Bennet continued her cheers and laughs each passing day, there soon became none who could deny it.

So the town now took it upon themselves to pay particular attention to this Bennet, and to provide her with a pleasant time as she waited for her soon-to-be-husband to return to her. The first indication to Mary of how the town had changed in her regards was when she received Margaret Gallagher as a visitor one afternoon. Mrs. Bennet had went off with Mrs. King for tea and a bit of gossip and praise of Mary, and her father had locked himself within his study for the day, wishing to be at leisure for another moment of his life. Mary, left entirely to herself, chose to rest within her room, writing away.

_Perhaps it be wrong of myself to allow the town to speculate- I know there is no bother to think it my fault of mama throwing such circumstances out of proportion, for that is how she finds particular enjoyment in life. But does that account for all of the town as well to follow suit? Edward Pendleton made me no promise but to return and confide in me that he might, perhaps, fall in love with me. He is not in love with me. I do feel as if I stand in some comedy of my own design, where I have the means to stop such a production, and yet I proceed on with a charade. I do know there are those who have their own arrangements for Edward, and I know most certainly that I hold no position in them. It might appear awfully pessimistic of myself if I admit that I have no reassurance that Edward Pendleton might return with a proposal. If he did not feel kind affections towards me to influence him to propose when I resided at Pemberley, in the pinnacle of my appearance, of what designs of my own might entice him now to pursue me? The dream has reached its last page and I am left in my plainness. Edward shall not see myself as the beauty he was so assured of before, for I am indistinguishable in comparison to how I looked there. It does provide me with some degree of sadness, but Edward appeared like such a boy before me, choosing to fight and stumbling over his words as if he had not any opinions with a foundation worthy to defend. Such a man can most certainly not provide me satisfaction, and I daresay that I should not provide him with any either, for I am off a stubborn sort and am most willing to defend my own opinions, and my lack of physical appeal and his contempt for my cerebral mind shall turn his interest away from me. He is of fortune, and must find a woman of immense beauty, who might carry a conversation without having the need to chastise or prove a point, and I do not think myself capable of providing him with such. Though Georgiana's actions, however sweet the intentions were, were done as a means to reassure me of my affability towards men, it only further convinced me that I shall be alone._

"Miss?" a servant girl knocked upon her door. "There is a Ms. Gallagher who is in the parlor, calling for your presence."

"For me?" Mary stood and followed the servant. "Margaret Gallagher? Whyever did you take it upon yourself to come this far from town?"

"You forget I am a simple country girl, too." Margaret's arms were draped over the back of a settee in perfect comfort. "I have heard of your good news, Mary, and wish to congratulate you."

"There be nothing to congratulate, since I am not yet engaged."

"You are modest! Whyever would your mother spread the tale around town so confidently?"

"A man promised to see me, and that he thought he might fall in love with me. That is all."

"That is all? Is that not confirmation of his feelings?"

"The man knows not what he wants. I am sure he shall stumble across a woman of impeccable looks and a pleasant smile, who shall be able to entice him to propose whole-heartedly, rather than some boyish promise."

"My, I would think you to be in some anticipation to see him again, when your options are so narrow. Any possibility might be celebrated."

"You are in my home, Margaret Gallagher, and I have no remorse towards sending you away if your own designs of wasting your day might be to mock me."

"That was not my intentions in coming here," Margaret replied. "It is just that I wished to come and speak to you of love, for it seems my life has a great deal of it, and so does your own."

"You come to me for advice?"

"No, not for advice" Margaret shook her head."I come to ask for your good opinion in matters regarding myself."

"I suppose I might do what I can to provide you some advice."

"Oh, Mary, I do fear I am in a dreadful mess." Margaret moaned, as she spoke as if she were confiding in a sister, and Mary thought the situation entirely odd and surreal. "Why, the tailor proposed to me the previous night, and just this morning, a young boy called for my hand as well! I know neither very much at all, but they both claim they love me, and I know not who to choose!"

"You do not have an obligation to accept either, you do know." Mary reminded. "You _do_ know this, I suppose?"

"I do, but I find them both perfectly agreeable, and would not wish to pass up the opportunity of either."

"I know of the tailor, butwho is the boy?"

"He is a servant with near close to nothing, but, oh, Mary, we have had our fair share of a conversation and he is most pleasant. He makes me feel as if we might never grow old, thatit might, perhaps, forever be youthful summer. I know we might confide in the other everything we desire, for we have already, and I do believe I would be immensely happy were I to spend the entirety of my life with him."

"It does appear as if you have already chosen your match." Mary remarked. "Of what use do you have to speak to me of the matter?"

"Oh, but my father would never approve of the boy. He cannot even be married until he is in his twenties, and more than five years is an awful long time. I do fear that I might stray away or another offer that is more agreeable might present itself, and I do not wish to cause him harm or injury of any kind in leaving him."

"I do believe that if you find this boy to be of the greatest fondness, than you shall have no temptation to make you stray from your affections, and you shall not mind the wait so much."

"Father shall toss me to the streets," Margaret covered her face. "I cannot live like a harlot for five years! He shall never approve of him!"

Mary stared at the crying girl before her and perplexity passed over the absurdity of the scene before her. Margaret Gallagher, who sneered at her passing in town, had taken it upon herself to seek Mary's counsel in love, which was a sentiment that Mary had no experience at all in. Though Mary could understand her thinking them similar in regards to proposals, she could not come to comprehend why Margaret had proceeded on in confiding with her after Mary ahd come to admit she was in no engagement.

"I do not think your father the kind of man capable of banishing his children from his life forever. I suppose he might feel some degree of fury in your decision, if he does so at all, but such fits of anger shall pass and he shall grow to accept it, for his love shall always surpass that of his anger, of that I am sure."

"How you put it, I do believe it shall all work out!"

"It does appear so."

"Who might ever have thought you capable of providing such perspectives in regards to love," Margaret smiled and the awkward moment passed as reality emerged once more. "You who have never experienced it."

"If that is your designs of thanks and gratitude," Marynow felt no obligationto remain of sincerity and good humor with Margaret, now that their momenthad ended."I feel I have had my share of itfor the day."

"Oh, no, I did not mean to insult you, Mary. I meant only to thank you and congratulate you of your own proposals."

"If you forget, I am not engaged." Mary corrected.

"Oh, but I am sure you soon will be." Margaret replied, though no sincerity lay within her voice, so self-absorbed in her own matters was she at this time.

Margaret Gallagher had received what she wished. Though Mary proved not to be engaged, so she, therefore,had no particular specialty in the area of matrimony or courting, she did prove to be of worthy guidance, for she did have about her an air of logic that she might never allow to abandon her in any situation. Mary's statements of her not being engaged had no effect over Margaret, for she was so indulged within her own bliss in receiving the answers she had wished for that she departed without another word, and soon forgot all about Mary Bennet and her deed towards her. Mary, in contrast to Margaret Gallagher, was able to construe one realization through this interaction with this silly girl, and it was that, though Margaret's circumstances might cause a bit of scandal, Mary's actions in the near future of her own love affairs would cause more.


	7. Volume I Part 7

**AN: **Thank you for your reviews. They are all accepted with much delight and gratitude. I do hope that you shall enjoy these next two chapters. Please tell me what ou think, and I shall be eternally grateful.

* * *

**13**

The engagement of Margaret Gallagher emerged forth as the new gossip of the town, and thoughts of Mary Bennet and her supposed engagement to Edward Pendleton faded until the entire matter was questionable that it was ever present at all. Even Mrs. Bennet, who declared that she shall never tire of speaking of her daughter's engagement, partook in the scandal of Margaret accepting a proposal from a servant- despite all of the eligible gentleman out there.

Mary Bennet had been sent to town by Mrs. Bennet to retrieve a bonnet of hers that was in need of mending. Though the task took minimal time, Mary felt a need to explore, rather than waste away inside for the entirety of the day, so she continued walking through the streets. She had passed down the sidewalk numerous times in the past, so often she could navigate with her eyes closed if ever she had the desire to, yet she stopped at every window and walked through every store as if it be her first time.

"Life does look much more promising through new eyes," Mary remarked, stopping inside the store she had last read some novel. "I suppose mama would not mind if I retired with a book for a bit."

Her refuge within the pages of some hysterical romance story was interrupted with the sound of shrill laughter, a very strident, boisterous sound that made it impossible for anyone to focus on anything besides the chortles of this individual. Leaning forward so that the shelves did not obstruct her view, Mary was able to see the bright face of Margaret Gallagher enter, giggling ridiculously at every uproarious statement her partner said.

"Honestly, I do believe those women might have given me a good spanking if we had proceeded on there any further." Margaret leaned against the shelf wall across from that which Mary stood by and set a hand to her heart, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Why, my heart is racing faster than ever before. I do not think I have ever had such fun!"

"Perhaps we might do that for the rest of our lives?" her companion suggested, and Mary came to recognize the voice before the individual's identity was revealed a moment later.

There come moments where one is taken entirely off guard, and are left awestruck and dumbfounded, for there is no other sentiment to complete the emotions that rush through one's very being. Never before might Mary Bennet have thought that she would come to observe William Cadaver turn the corner to lean beside Margaret Gallagher, a lopsided grin about his face and his eyes sparkling with something fierce. His youthfulness was omnipresent, but Mary now observed a new maturity about the boy. There was a new way in which he smiled, with one corner more upturned than the other, and his eyes crinkled in the corners, which was a new feature that Mary not had noticed before.

"Margaret?" the clerk's arms were propped upon the countertop as he leaned to look at her. "You have not visited me in many days."

"Oh, I do apologize for my neglect." She waved a dainty hand and used it to cover her mouth and suppress giggles. "George, have you met William Cadaver? He has been in town for almost a sennight since he has been detained by… other circumstances."

"Circumstances?" the clerk's eyes focused upon William, and it was the first instance that he came to realize that they were not alone.

"Yes, might you be able to guess what detained him?" Margaret coaxed a response.

"Be this a circumstance that I would wish to guess?"

"Oh, I cannot wait further, he was detained because of me!" she bounced as she said it, unable to remain motionless. "Why, George, we are engaged!"

"Engaged?" never before had Mary seen a man more dejected. "I do wish you both much happiness and good fortune."

"I am glad to have your blessing, George." Margaret turned to William, not detecting the man's melancholy countenance. "Never might I have thought it possible to be so happy."

"I am sure you feel much good fortune in capturing the heart of such a woman, Mr. Cadaver." The clerk bowed his head. "Do promise to treat her well."

"I shall treat her like a queen," William grinned ear to ear. "She is the most beautiful creature."

As absurd a picture that was before her, Mary now felt sadness envelop her. The way in which William spoke of Margaret was sincere, and it was to compliment her beauty. Margaret Gallagher was not a woman of vast intellect, nor was she much of a woman, for she was still the same girl she was the day prior, and yet she had managed to obtain a happiness that appeared so impossible for Mary Bennet. Scrutinizing the situation with meticulous care, she could only discern that the two of them were very much in love and that, regardless of scandals and gossips, they would continue with their laughs and jollity.

"It seems almost unfair," Mary breathed, slumping down to the ground with her back against a bookshelf, the book resting against her legs.

"Mary?" William stood in front of her, his eyes large with curiosity. "Why, I do think you do rather enjoy the company of books, for in all of our acquaintance I have not seen you without one."

"I suppose that is an accurate portrayal of myself, if ever there were one." Mary smiled weakly.

"However have you been, Mary?" William inquired. "I did attempt to call upon you when I arrived in Hertfordshire, but… I was detained…"

"Might you be able to guess why?" Margaret questioned, her hand resting upon William's shoulder possessively.

"I suppose it is directly related to your engagement to William?" Mary suggested, wishing now to be rid of them.

"Oh, of course you must have overheard." Margaret remarked. "I cannot help it. When I am so excited, I tend to speak louder than need be."

"I did mean to call for you, Mary." William spoke to her in a low voice, as Margaret skipped about the store. "But the word around town was that you were engaged, and that might not have stopped me, had not I heard your own mother speaking of it as I walked down the street one afternoon."

"I do feel it would be wrong for me to confirm the gossip, when gossip rarely possesses the truth of the matter."

"So it is not true?"

"I was made a promise. That is all."

"A promise?"

"The man told me he might fall in love with me, and that he would call upon me in due time.

"You do not speak of him with affection. Do you not think fondly of him?"

"I know little to nothing of him. How might I love a stranger?"

"Always so practical," William laughed. "Mary, perhaps you should not worry so much of what is logical to do, for such a pragmatic mindset is apt to confine you in such restrictions that you will be denied many a good and pleasant experience. Try not to judge every situation so, and perhaps you might find your happiness as well."

"What?" Mary could not conceal her surprise at his remark. "This seems not at all like something that you might say."

"I do possess some degree of wisdom about me, I do believe." William grinned haughtily. "And I do feel as if I should provide you with my own candid advice, for I do not think you happy standing, or rather sitting, before me today."

"Whyever would I not be happy?"

"I do not think you would find it satisfactory to spend all of your life sitting in the corner of a store reading novels that would no doubt be more beneficiary if used for firewood than an afternoon immersed in it."

"Whenever did you decide to grow up?"

"Love does a good many changes to a person," William looked over at Margaret. "I must admit that I did not think it _logical_ for me to be in love. She can be a silly girl often enough, but she does possess a good heart about her, and I am sure that she shall become far more calm as she grows older. I have nothing to offer to her but myself, and we cannot be wed until I am done with my servitude to my master. There are many perfectly sensible reasons to prevent me from pursuing anything with Margaret Gallagher, but I do think that sometimes there is a necessity to abandon practicality for awhile. It allowed me to find love and happiness, after all. Never before might logic, in all of its order and planning and realism, provide me with such as that I have obtained."

"And I thought you to be a silly boy as well," Mary found herself grinning just as wide. "I do wish you much luck in the future. I am sure time shall pass swiftly and that you and Margaret might have a bright wedding ahead."

"I believe it evermore," William agreed. "I do cherish our friendship, Mary. You are unlike any woman I have ever beheld."

"I suppose that is all the compliments I might ever receive, so it shall suffice."

"You shall find a man someday, Mary." William reassured. "And he might iron his stockings and polish his shoes, and the both of you might read a book into the evening or talk of mathematical equations or organize the kitchen cupboard, if that is what you wish. I do not know if that is honestly what you desire."

"Whatever is that picture that you paint before me, William?" Mary asked, truly perplexed, yet a smile of amusement shown upon her face.

"I assume that would be your life, if ever you decide to find a man so sensible as yourself."

"You do not approve of a man like that?"

"Certainly you did not find my portrait to be desirable?" William arched an eyebrow in question. "A man whose idea of spontaneity is wearing gray shoes with navy britches or taking an extra walk around the park with his wife?"

"Of course not."

"Then I do hope you realize what I intended to say in my portrait."

* * *

**14**

With the announcement of an engagement there occurred either a complete alteration of character or no change at all. For Mary Bennet, she epitomized the latter, and Margaret Gallagher the former.

Her haughty air dispelled with thoughts of marriage, and she conceded to present herself to the Bennet household, for she considered herself fairly relatable to Mary Bennet now, because of their connections with the opposite sex. Mrs. Bennet took especial delight in her daughter's new relationship, for her middle child was known to be an introverted, pedantic creature, and it was a new sight to see this very child now indulging herself in the company of another.

William Cadaver was to be leaving the following day for his home in the country and the Gallagher's had invited the Bennets to supper. Mr. Bennet had affairs to deal with on the farm,but,though Mary had not expressed any reluctance to attend, Mrs. Bennet was adamant and sent Mary to her room to change into a more colorful gown and to have one of the servants pull her hair up for the occasion. The reflection she met after readying herself was nothing compared to what she had been at Pemberley, but she was able to smile with a confidence in recognizing herself for what she truly was.

Providence had provided them with a pleasant ride in the country to the Gallagher farm. Though it was situated upon a minute plot of land, Mr. Gallagher had taken excessive pride in the appearance of his home, having the shutters painted twice a year and the front porch re-decked every few years with fresh lumber and then covered with an appealing shade of cream. The small garden in front was quaint and pleasant, for the small poppies and bushes provided a tranquil picture to rest after a day's labor. Margaret Gallagher, had she taken a particular interest in it, might have related her childhood afternoons spent in the confines of the small trees and landscape that once appeared large and extravagant in youthful eyes.

Supper passed by in four courses, all of which Mrs. Bennet took it upon herself to compliment on, and praising the good fortune Margaret had in finding herself an agreeable husband. Margaret beamed and seemed to expand with each appraisal towards her, but William soon grew abashed and his face was red as his cravat by the time that they had all withdrawn to the parlor.

Within the parlor, they sat and talked of wedding plans, and Mary soon tired of such conversation and departed for the gardens in the front for some refuge, if only for a brief period of time. There, she allowed herself to recollect the events of Pemberley and her acquaintance with Edward Pendleton, who she now questioned his sincerity and she grew more and more certain might soon forget of her.

"Mary?"

Mary released her thoughts when she saw William enter through the gates into the garden, his hands fumbling about in his coat pockets. He held himself in a reserved fashion, his face slightly turned as if discomfited. He stood before her, his eyes lowered and his bottom lipped sucked in as if he now bit on them, preventing words to surpass his lips, for a few minutes, and Mary soon found herself doing the same out of nervousness for him.

"I know you might now question my reasons for coming out here and abandoning those that had provided us with a pleasant evening, merely for the sake of celebration on my behalf." William continued his ritual, his lip half immersed in his mouth. "I hope you do realize I meant not to offend you the previous day when I chastised you of your logic."

"There was no offense taken. I believe your words to be sincere and quite truthful, in fact."

"Mary, I did not enter this town with thoughts of Margaret Gallagher on my mind," William looked up now. "I rather enjoyed your company, truly that is my honest opinion, and I had hoped when I first came that you might have perhaps desired to call me your own, however my thoughts, though they seem childish now, soon ended with the reassurance of your engagement. And now I know they be not true, but then it was as real as ever to me, you must believe me."

"I do not think you have reason to speak falsely with me, William. I do believe every word."

"Since my first acquaintance with you, I had such notions of you." William grinned.

"Notions?" Mary raised an eyebrow. "Whatever kind of notions might you have within your mind, William?"

"Nothing disrespectful to you, I must reassure." William answered and his face turned crimson. "You do seem too large for all of Hertfordshire, if I may be exact. I simply felt you to be the kind of woman who would not settle for such a life as the rest of them."

"It does seem I have not the choice in such a matter," Mary responded.

"Would you not desire to be elsewhere?"

"I know not else I might be, if not here or with my family."

"Would you wish to know?"

"Whyever are you asking of these things?" Mary questioned.

"It is just that, I consider you to be one held very close to me, even if we might have such a short acquaintance." William rested beside her now. "I do not say this with the intention of ruining your relations with this man who might propose to you, but I do not wish to see you so wasted away within the confines of marriage that your own source of exploring the world is through the literature you spend your days reading. I do not object to such things, but I did wish that you might have the life noteworthy of a story."

"You do have such high expectations of me," Mary laughed. "William, I do admire your portrayal of myself, but I am far from grand. I, who cannot find myself a partner at a ball, surely cannot take it upon myself to expect more from a life but a simple marriage."

"Be that what you think, or what others wish it of you to believe?"

"It has been fed to me often enough, but I know I should not expect more than this."

"But you do, nonetheless."

"I would be lying if I objected."

"Might you promise me to be open-minded in your decisions pertaining to your future?" William held one of her hands, and many might consider his fervent gestures to be an indication of something scandalous, butMary knew them to be nothing more than a person wishing well for a friend. "I know there is much I know not about you, Mary, but as I have alreadyspoken of with you, you are unlike all else that I have met. I know not what it is about you that made me approach you that day, but you do have something about you, and I truly can see you having adventures that all else might only read of in books. Do not compromise your dreams to only be present within the words of some novel in your lap. I do wish for the best of you."

"And I do wish for your happiness as well," Mary shifted in her seat. "William, I am far too silly of a girl to wish it upon myself to live such a life."

"Do not say such things!" and William was thus transfigured into a boyish figure, begging Mary. "I cannot have you marry yourself to some man you might not have an ounce of affection for, for too many women find themselves settled in unhappy marriages."

"And then what do you advise me do?"

"To explore and exploit yourself..."

"I beg pardon?" Mary had hardly allowed William to finish before she had questioned his statement.

"I wish for you to see the country and the cities and towns and know what is out there. I do think you have much to offer, if only you allowed yourself to be out there for the world to see. You need not dress up handsomely or adorn yourself with jewels and gold to be listened to, and I do find you have opinions worth listening to. You do love a good story, Mary, and I do think you have the possibility of living a life worth reading of."

"Nonsense."

"It is if you do not believe it."

"William, you barely know me."

"I know enough to know that you do not wish to marry this man."

"If that is what you believe, then I shall not. I was unsure myself, and he has not proposed, so I am not bound within marriage yet. But I do not think it wise of myself to expect so much in a lifetime. It shall surely leave to much disappointment."

"Might you toss such opinions to the flames, Mary!" William shook his head, and Mary feltsuddenly nervous,for William had learned to read herbetter thanall else."If there is one thing I wish to know, tell me what it is that you want. Tell me what might be that dream which flows through your veins as natural as blood and that you wish to call your own. Tell me it is not this."

"I…"

"Confounded logic! Mary, not all of life might be so logical that you might find the answer to everything. Might there be a situation in which there is no logic to the answer? Abandon it and tell me what it is that you want."

"I…" Mary lowered her head now, her own embarrassment to admit it coming forth. "Why do you ask it of me?"

"Because I need to hear it for myself, and I do believe you do as well."

"I wish to live a story worth telling," Mary now repeated the gestures which William had begun. Tears passed for a brief moment and she looked up, speaking softly. "Be it so wrong that I wish for such a life? That I cannot be satisfied with what all of my sisters shall have? That I should be grateful if ever I have what they do, and yet I wish for more?"

"That was all I needed to hear," William stood and held out a hand to help her up. "Perhaps we might join them now? I do believe that was what was needed to be said. For the both of us."

"You do myself much good, William." Mary thanked him. "I do not think a man of twice your age might have provided me with better incite for myself."

* * *

The exchange between William and Mary was unnoticed by all else, who were immersed in conversation of Margaret's engagement still. Mrs. Bennet, upon seeing the two enter and seat themselves once more, took it upon herself to change the object of attention to her own daughter, and she did so with more spirits than she had when she first heard of Edward Pendleton's attachment to Mary.

"Can you believe it, Mr. Gallagher, that our daughters are so soon to be wed?" Mrs. Bennet directed Mr. Gallagher's eyes to Mary. "Does she not look the part of a desirable partner for a man?"

"I do say she shall make her husband immensely happy."

"We do find her match to be most providential," Mrs. Bennet told him. "Why, he has _two_ estates, can you imagine? Why, my Mary shall have much trouble often enough, I am sure, in deciding where she might wish to spend her summers or her winters."

"If that is all the trouble I might have in my life, then I do find my situation most fortunate." Mary remarked, exasperated with Mrs. Bennet's talk already.

"It is of the greatest fortune!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed most happily. "I do not think we could have asked for more for her."

"Do tell us more of this man, Mary." Mr. Gallagher suggested. "I do wonder what kind of fellow this gentleman may be that has you set upon marrying him."

"It is not that I am determined to marry him."

The room responded with silence, which Mrs. Bennet broke.

"My Mary is not one to be desperate, that is sure, for she shall make a perfect match for any lucky gentleman…"

"If you wish to know more of him, then you must ask someone else, Mr. Gallagher, for you know just as much as I at this point." Mary interrupted Mrs. Bennet, unable to allow her to paint color to her situation.

"Mary!" Mrs. Bennet gasped at her daughter's behavior.

"If I might ask, what is the name of this man?" Mr. Gallagher asked.

"Edward Pendleton." Mary answered.

"Oh, Mr. Pendleton is a most amiable man, Mr. Gallagher!"

"Edward Pendleton?" William looked up from where he conversed now with Margaret. "You cannot be engaged to Edward Pendleton."

"I am not engaged, but he has made a promise that he shall once he returns from London." Mary explained.

"Yes, the man is sure to propose once he returns. He is honorable and will stick to his word." Mrs. Bennet reassured.

"There is no possibility of his proposal," William stated.

"Why, of course there is!" Mrs. Bennet retorted aggressively, standing to put emphasis on her statement. "Why, his words were near close to a proposal as there may be."

"Believe me, Mrs. Bennet, I would know above all else of the affairs of Edward Pendleton."

"And whyever would you be so well-informed of his happenings?" Mrs. Bennet inquired, her hands crossed upon her bosom.

"Because Edward Pendleton is the man whom I work for," the room grew tense as William continued, and Mrs. Bennet's hands dropped as she stood perfectly erect, her expression blank. "I received a letter from him just yesterday of most joyous news. He wrote to tell me to return tomorrow, for I need to ready his house, for he is to return home soon and shall bring with him his betrothed."

"Betrothed?" Mrs. Bennet breathed the word meekly, as if she needed to say such a thing in order to believe it.

"Yes, while in London, my master met a young lady who easily captured his affections." William told them. "He proposed to her and she has accepted. They are to be wed in the winter, for his lady wishes it of him."

Before another word might be said of Edward Pendleton and his sudden engagement now eradicating all hopes of Mary's own marriage with him, Mrs. Bennet let out a small cry and fainted.


	8. Volume I Part 8

**AN:** Thank you for the reviews. It is all greatly appreciated. I am soon coming to the closure of Volume 1, which I hope is all to your liking. With the new volume coming in the next few updates, there will be new characters, all of whom I hope you will find delightful. Don't forget to review. It always keeps me typing away with much haste when I have others who wish for me to continue this story as much as I.

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**15**

Mrs. Bennet's disposition remained fairly delicate for the next few days as William Cadaver departed further into the countryside. It was the utmost priority for Mrs. Bennet to ponder over the situation in vexation, for she was back at the beginning of her task at hand, and it was quite bothersome to regress. She had retired in her room, and life at home for Mary Bennet was unbearably quiet, without even Mrs. Bennet's chatter of nonsense to fill the empty halls.

During this period of silence and solitude, Mary had retreated to the ivory keys that had captivated her childhood until present time. She began each day with scales and progressed into simple minuets and often indulged herself in Mozart and Beethoven to pass her time. Her lack of practice and a tutor had denied her the necessary attributes to perfect the masterpieces of her most beloved composers, but she took especial delight in the completion of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, which she felt captured well the melancholy of her life. Above her, Mrs. Bennet could be heard during the interludes of soft notes, and when the crescendo faded into a low hum, a dreadful moan would pass through the walls and cause Mary to be reminded as well of Edward Pendleton's empty promise.

_Of course it would be silly of myself to suspect Edward Pendleton to uphold such a bold statement, and it would be terribly wrong and selfish of myself to desire injury upon him. A man cannot be blamed for a woman's inability to woo him, and I suppose that his actions must certainly have been anticipated, at least in some subconscious manner. Mama will now proceed with her usual tactics in placing me within matrimony by the winter holiday, and I shall be tormented with following her into town, dressed like a poppy and attempting to entertain available men who are twice my senior, with daughters older than I. Be it wrong of myself to expect more from life than that which mama wishes to offer me?_

Within the confines of her room, Mary Bennet heard the soft pattering of hooves upon the path that led to the Bennet household. She closed the leather-bound journal and placed it beneath her sheets, then advanced towards the open window, where a large carriage rested outside the gate. Mr. Bennet was seen exiting from the house, standing before the entrance of the gate and conversing withthe driver. He gave a polite nod and took a step back so as to allow the driver to open the door and assist the passenger from the carriage.

A large white straw hat emerged, where many yellow flowers were pinned upon the ribbon, and golden locks followed, swaying with the slight breeze. Georgiana Darcy appeared as a gift from above, in her yellow dress, with a ribbon from her hat tied in a bow beneath her chin. Her large eyes locked upon Mary, and she held up a hand in a wave, her voice carrying across the grounds.

"Why, Mary, I have grown so lonely without you, I felt it not possible to last another day without you, so I departed to see you again!"

Georgiana situated herself upon Kitty's old bed that she had shared with Lydia, and Mary sat upon her own, which was the small window that allowed for half of her body to drape off of the ends. Though since her sisters' departure, Mary had allowed herself to spend her nights within their larger bed, she was most willing to sacrifice for this minute space for the likes of Georgiana Darcy.

Amongst the plain room of simple furniture and dull colors of brown and gray, Georgiana looked very much out of place, but she seemed not to notice, gazing about at her environment with a bright smile and much interest. She felt rather comfortable, her back resting against a lace-covered pillow, and she took off her hat to allow more curls to fall and placed the large mass of straw and ribbons and flowers upon the bedpost.

"Do tell me you have been well, Mary." Georgiana began. "I could not stand to know that you have been anything less, for I do long for your happiness."

"Life does offer substantial satisfaction," Mary answered. "Although I do think that mama shall drive me to my own demise if I do not find myself within the bondage of matrimony in due time."

"Does she not realize that there is much to do with one's life before we are wed?"

"We do not all possess the luxuries to allow ourselves such opportunities," Mary replied. "I am not one with much advantages to which I may decline any offer of marriage."

"Do tell me you shall not marry the first man who might propose to you."

"Unless it seems like a sensible match, I shall be an old maid."

"You shall always have a place with me, Mary." Georgiana promised. "I do rather enjoy your company, and you are the only person who be willing now to listen to me, for my brother is married and your other sisters do not care so for the tribulations of a girl like me."

"I fear that is all that I might have to invest my time."

"Be it that bad, Mary?" Georgiana giggled. "Honestly, I did not think myself so dull to incite you to shudder at such a thought as conversing with me for a lifetime."

"I do hope I am substantial company for another out in the world," Mary sighed and commenced to stare out of the window.

"What thoughts go through your mind, Mary Bennet?" Georgiana inquired. "Thoughts of the future? Of vast lands in which you might exploreand write of? I suppose that might be what you so long for. You do wish for an adventure, I must guess, for you have read of such tales that you must be thirsty for your own, and life thus far must make you very much parched of such trifles. Be it that we ladies have not the advantage to pursue such a life, and must partake only in accommodating our lives with that which will make us desirable to the men who might wish to wed us? Life does seem dreadfully unfair, do you not think so, Mary? I do fear that we shall have only marriage to anticipate in life."

"It does appear like such a waste of a life," Mary frowned. "Might there be more to it than merely that?"

"How does your family fair, Mary? Are they well?"

"Papa shall always find enjoyment in his leisure, now that the house is near to empty. Mama shall never find leisure, for she shall always have me to worry her nerves over."

"I do think I have heard Elizabeth mention such a trait before," Georgiana laughed. "Your mother does seem very delightful."

"Perhaps just the idea of such a mother," Mary remarked. "To actually possess such a person within your life is far from delightful, and such ideas do sound much more agreeable to one's taste than the actual reality of the idea."

"I shall have to take your word."

Mrs. Bennet had heard a great deal of the Darcy family, and she had come into the acquaintance of Mr. Darcy very rarely, for providence had not allowed her to visit Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy as often as she would have desired, but the arrival of Georgiana appealed to her greatly. When a servant entered her room with tea and some soup to assist her weakening body and spirit, the servant also brought news of the new visitor, and Mrs. Bennet found a rapid recovery as she jumped up abruptly and rushed into Mary's room, still within her night robes.

"Ms. Darcy, how greet it is to meet you at last!" Mrs. Bennet clasped the girl's hands and shook them before stepping into the center of the room. "I do hope you enjoy your stay, for we shall do our very best to make our home accommodating to your needs. How is Pemberley?"

"No different than the usual," Georgiana replied. "I do think that my brother and Elizabeth shall enjoy my absence, for they do find much pleasure in being alone. They are still very much in love, and Elizabeth has adjusted quite well to her new home. One might never have guessed she had resided elsewhere."

"It does make my dear heart very happy to hear such things of my Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet chortled. "Why, I might not have thought it possible for my daughters to find such matches! I have been fortunate that my children all find themselves with many a great acquaintance, as I am sure you are aware of the necessity of good relations with others, for one is only as good as those that they surround themselves with."

"There are many a good person who I am proud to say are in my acquaintance," Georgiana agreed. "You are very lucky, to have raised such amiable daughters. Mary is a most delightful companion."

"I am most confident that my Mary shall find an agreeable husband soon enough," Mrs. Bennet commented. "I dare say my nerves shall rest at last, though they have not faired so well since that scoundrel of a man. Oh, the audacity of such a man, to leave my poor Mary to wait like this! And for poor mama to sit at home, helpless to do a thing about this selfish man who has injured my Mary so!"

"You did not tell me that there was a man in your life, Mary." Georgiana turned towards Mary with a question.

"There is no man in my life, Georgiana, you need not worry yourself of such things."

"Oh, how can you tease her so, Mary!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Why, there was a man in her life less than a sennight ago. But what an odious man! It shall be the greatest fortune to be disposed of him for life. He has treated her so dreadfully. And now Mary is left alone as a woman whose own engagement was ignored by a man to be married to another!"

"I was never engaged, mama."

"It was not formally announced, but it was as good as sealed, and now you are ruined."

"Ruined?"

"Whyever might a man desire for you now, when another man could so easily be rid of you for another woman? Why, a man shall never find you desirable again."

"Because I possessed such a surplus of men before who wished to call me their own.'

"Oh, Mary, this is most dreadful news and you shall not treat it with such sarcasm."

"I am truly sorry for your sudden disposition, Mary." Georgiana chimed in. "The man does not sound at all like a gentleman, for a man is only as good as his word."

"Actions do speak louder than words, Georgiana, and the truth is that they mean far more than any amount of eloquent reassurance possibly can."

"I do wish to hunt down this man myself and give him a fine talking to."

"What an odious man!" Mrs. Bennet declared. "I cannot bear to watch what shall prevail my Mary, if anything at all does! Oh, what a sad day for poor mama, to see her only daughter left ruined before my eyes. I cannot bear it!"

"Mama, there is nothing to worry of, for I shall be just as good as ever." Mary reassured. "Such a hindrance to your plan is surely not going to lead you astray. You are a very determined, mama, if I do say so myself."

"Of course, it 'tis all a mother might be for her daughters," Mrs. Bennet dropped upon the chair where Mary occasionally wrote. "Oh, I do think I shall faint with worry. The task is still not done! I do fear I shall die for neglecting my poor nerves. There is much for a mother to worry of for her children, and I feel so weak as of late."

"Perhaps you shall retire to your room, again?" Mary suggested.

"Do stay strong, my dear Mary." Mrs. Bennet placed a hand to her forehead in a dramatic air. "You shall need to be strong for you to find a man. And we shall find one yet! I do hope for many good things for you, my dear."

"Try not to think of Edward Pendleton," Mary called as Mrs. Bennet departed from her room.

"Oh, the insolence of that man!" Mrs. Bennet was heard groaning as she entered her bed chambers.

"I do understand now how the idea might appear better than present reality," Georgiana giggled briefly before becoming serious. "Mary, did you mention Edward Pendleton?"

"Yes, I did."

"Was he that man who…"

"Yes, that was Edward."

"But… Mary, you did not make mention of him…"

"Please forgive me for not telling you, it was a most awkward situation to be in."

"Awkward? But Mary, you told me not a word of him!"

"He is your dear friend. I felt silly sharing such an account with you, when I was still so uncertain of what he had meant in the gesture."

"Whatever passed between the two of you, Mary?"

"After the ball, I had escaped outdoors for a bit." Mary explained. "Edward had appeared, and I was quite cross with him from the previous night, for he had been a most dreadful companion and I did not desire to see of him so soon after. It was there that he proclaimed of his fascination with me, and how I intrigued him so. I was so awestruck at his statements that my good sense left me during this interlude, in which he proceeded to speak that he might fall in love with me, and that he had plans for an engagement with me in due time. He then said he could not be engaged with me then, for he must first attend to affairs in London, but that he would call upon me when he first received an opportunity to continue with wherever it may be that we left off. That was all that passed."

"He spoke to you of all that?" Georgiana's eyes went wide. "Why, I never thought it of Edward to…"

"Georgiana?" Mary noted the girl's complexion fading. "You are alright, I hope?"

"Oh Mary, how he abused you so!" Georgiana could not conceal the tears that silently began to fall. "Why, he lied to you, and then made you feel the necessity to wait for him… and he spoke such tender sentiments to you… those sweet little nothings that any lady might be prone to fall for… and so reassuring… and he promised you… and he might fall in love with you…"

"Georgiana?" Mary stood and approached the babbling Georgiana. "You did not have feelings for Edward, did you?"

"Mary!" Georgiana's arms wrapped around her as she wept. "For so long I had thought it might have been me! When I… when I heard the news of his engagement… how it hurt me so! I never, never might I have thought you were prey also to his lies and deceit!"

"You, also? Whatever did he do to you?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" Georgiana sobbed. "It was not that he spoke to me so formally of his affections as he had with you. No, it was most probable that it was my silly girlish fancies possessing my sensibility, for he never once spoke so tender to me. But I always thought! It seemed so perfect that he should love me, but of course such dreams are apt to fall short. I never did wish for such an injury to pass to you as well, Mary! At least we may say we share the same pain…"

"Yes," Mary looked out the window now, for Edward Pendleton's actions did nothing to her but injure her pride to a slight effect. "I dare say he has done much injury."

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**16**

Mary Bennet's acquaintance with Georgiana Darcy was not one of great longevity, nor was it one of much intimacy. However, such qualities posed no hindrance to their closeness, and it was the unification from a man who had allowed them to possess false hopes of the future that their friendship suddenly augmented to a great extent.

The puerile airs of Georgiana had dissipated with the news of Edward Pendleton's engagement, and she became very much the serious person, with a solemn face that appeared more suitable for a widow than a young girl with very much a bright future ahead. Mary began to note the looks of men in town in regards to her friend, but Georgiana took no note, her eyes downcast and looking up only to speak with Mary.

"Do I appear like this to others?" Mary wondered to herself one afternoon when she read against a tree and Georgiana stood, painting the Bennet household.

"I do find the country very serene," Georgiana remarked, her hand gracefully guiding the brush across the canvas. "Why, I have never felt more at peace with myself. Your home is so very pleasant, Mary, I cannot imagine wishing to live elsewhere. I suppose it is a great deal more silent than it should be, but that can be accounted for because your mother has taken ill, and your father was never one of great loquaciousness. It does allow a lady much time to devote in circumspect of life, and I can now understand how you have grown so insightful as to so many aspects of this world, for you must have an awfully vast amount of time in which to consider all that surround you. I do think that I would not mind at all to live with your family, for, though it certainly is not as grandiose as my own home, it is most beneficial to the mind and spirit."

"Poverty is an attribute of life very few find praiseworthy."

"I suppose it be because people are so reluctant to be at leisure and not work at all that they come to scorn that which provides you with the necessity to use your hands. People want a bountiful harvest but they are most unwilling to do the reaping that shall provide you with thus."

"Of what does Georgiana Darcy know of work?" Mary inquired, looking up from her book.

"I dare say I know no more than nothing of the matter," Georgiana shrugged. "But you must not think me ignorant of the entirety of such things, for there are many a thing that people do not experience but know of."

"I must acquiesce to that," Mary nodded.

"Do you ever desire for such things to last for an eternity?" Georgiana questioned. "I do long for such moments as this to never end."

"The importance of such events would no longer exist if you had the privilege of experiencing them daily."

"I suppose so," Georgiana sighed.

"How long do you plan to stay?"

"Here? As long as you feel I am not a nuisance."

"Will your brother not miss you?"

"My brother is a married man. He has other matters of more importance to think of than allow the thought of me to impede."

"He does care for you greatly."

"I would never doubt it, but he is a most devoted husband and was always a man of much business. He is often deferred from Pemberley for great periods of time, and when he does return, his top priority is of investing his visit with his wife. But one cannot blame a husband for such devotion. It is what I would wish of my own husband."

"You do not give up hope for another man?"

"Edward Pendleton never loved me, Mary." Georgiana responded. "And if I allow myself to be candid to myself, I most probably did not feel much attachment to him either. For so long since I have met him, the idea of him loving me and wishing to marry me had just appeared so ideal. But it is just an idea, 'tis all that it may be. You were the one who told me reality falls short of ideals."

"I do think that is what I said."

"Mary! Georgiana!" Mrs. Bennet was seen from a distance gathering up her skirts and running over, her arms in the air, one hand holding a letter. "I have the most wonderful news!"

"What gossip might mama find we are in need of hearing?" Mary asked Georgiana, who began to giggle.

"Oh, it is most great news!" Mrs. Bennet grinned madly. "I might never have asked for more for a daughter!"

"I am glad to see your illness has very rapidly departed," Mary noted.

"I am in no such mood for your remarks, Mary, when such celebration is in need for you dear sister."

"What?"

"Oh, my Kitty, my dearest daughter, Kitty!" Mrs. Bennet chortled. "I always knew her connections with that De Bourgh woman should be of most benefit to her!"

"What has become of Kitty, mama?"

"She is engaged, Mary!" Mrs. Bennet could barely allow herself room to breath between her words. "My Kitty, my dearest Kitty, engaged! She is one her way home from her wedding this very day! And she shall be bringing her husband with her, for they depart for their home. Oh, most happy news! Such a happy day for a mother to see her daughter so well married!"

"Kitty… married?"

"Four daughters wed, and one left! It is all that I might ask for in life!" Mrs. Bennet looked at the crumbled letter as if it were a check of immense fortune. "This is the most I might ask for, with another daughter… married! Do you think it not a most joyous day?"

"Of course, there was never a doubt that some man might fall for her winks and smiles." Mary commented.

"I cannot express how truly happy I am for all my daughters! Such good providence for us all! And there is no doubt that she deserves it. My Kitty has always been so sweet and patient. She shall make any man a most beloved wife! It does not matter that her husband was scorned only moments ago, for he cannot be blamed for falling in love with her. She is a most beautiful girl, and so very amiable, any man shall be prone to develop affections for her."

"Mama, are you meaning to tell me that Kitty is married to…"

"Oh, Mary, do put aside such ill feelings, for you cannot blame the man for falling for your sister." Mrs. Bennet placed a hand upon her racing chest. "I do feel I shall die of happiness for her! Two estates and a fortune of ten thousand, at the least, I am sure! Why, I feel I love the man already for doing such good to my dear Kitty!"

"Mama… how can you forget so easily that Edward Pendleton spoke with false pretenses in mind…"

"Hush, Mary! It is not the time to open old wounds, when there is much to praise in this news! Another of your sisters married, and matched so well! I am most certain of a pleasant life ahead of her."

"Of course," Mary closed her book and stood. "It would only be sensible that the man choose Kitty over me."

"I am most glad that you have not such harsh feelings towards him and your sister, Mary." Mrs. Bennet smiled. "Can you imagine? All of your four sisters married! I must tell the servants to ready a nice plate for them, and cook a feast for them! Oh, happy days! To see my daughters so nicely situated in life!"


	9. Volume I Part 9

**AN: **Much apologies. I've had this done for awhile, but I have not had access to post this all week. However, now it is up and running again, and I do hope that this is to your liking. Keep on R&R!

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17

Mary Bennet now found herself within the depths of a most adverse situation, and her own self-pride could not permit her to welcome her sister after so long of an absence. She had declared an illness for the first day, to which she was informed of her younger sister's welfare by Georgiana Darcy.

Catherine Pendleton had developed into a decent enough lady, and one who had matured with an aristocratic air about her, cultivated during her time at Rosings with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Though she was a good deal less silly than the youngest Bennet, she occasionally found herself within an uncontrollable fit of giggles and smiles, but she had learned to use it to give her the appearance of a blithe countenance. She was not so presumptuous and dynamic as Lydia, and found it more favorable to demonstrate herself in more subtle mannerisms, with a hand resting upon another's shoulder in a friendly gesture to display the diamonds upon her finger.

Mrs. Bennet could be heard below Mary's room praising her second youngest daughter until dusk. When Kitty was not extolled by her, Mrs. Bennet would change the object of her accolade to Edward Pendleton, and none might have been able to identify him as the man who had her in such a fluster earlier that very day. He appeared wan during the entirety of the afternoon, and his pallor went unnoticed by all except Georgiana Darcy, who knew so very well the customary appearance of her former friend. Occasionally, he was seen to blush a bright crimson when Mrs. Bennet presented him with exaggerated raptures of her congratulations and by supper he felt the necessity to retire for the night in Jane and Elizabeth's old room.

"You might never have thought him to ever be in health, Mary," Georgiana remarked during her tale of the day. "Why, the poor man glistened so with perspiration, I do wonder why his overcoat had not been soaked by nightfall."

"It does provide some relief to know that the man feels some inclination of guilt over his actions, though my family is not one to notice the obvious when it conflicts with their present happiness." Mary leaned against the window and smiled at Georgiana. "So you are satisfied with the day, I hope?"

"Yes, though I do feel considerably apprehensive over Edward's well-being. I do hope his health does not continue to fail him, for at this rate, we shall write him a eulogy by the end of this month." Georgiana hugged her legs. "Do you feel you are ready to face your sister now? She did wish to see you, but was deterred when I spoke that you were very much contagious and that she would not wish to ruin her future plans by catching cold."

"Kitty is far too silly to notice any ill-feelings I might have towards her," Mary admitted. "And I doubt any shall notice but you, Georgiana, and perhaps Edward, if he will even permit himself to allow his eyes to fixate upon me."

"Whyever would he not?"

"I do wonder how a man might possibly confront a woman who he had fooled so dreadfully, and I cannot think I would allow myself to place myself in the acquaintance of another I might have done injustice to."

"I suppose those are your morals?"

"I would wish to speak with him, for there is not much to forgive, but I do desire to inquire about his decisions. I must admit, his actions did cause a diminutive slight to the esteem of myself."

"Do you plan now to tell me of how you invested your day? I cannot imagine being so locked up all afternoon. However did you pass the time?"

"Books can allow for the mind to wander in such a manner that time itself seems insignificant." Mary shrugged. "I do feel as if I had my fair share of time to look at my current situation in retrospect and come to a full understanding."

"Always in need to augment your mind," Georgiana smiled. "You do make me feel as if I shall never do good with the time given me, for I never shall find myself investing my life to such things as that which you do, Mary."

"My life is far from admirable, Georgiana, and I advise you never desire to possess anything of any relative closeness to that which I have, for I would never wish such a thing upon you."

"My, your life be not so dreadful, Mary."

"Nonetheless, I would never wish for you to suffer the occurrences that I have."

"Might you please inform me of that which I must never endure?"

"You must think me daft for saying thus," Mary began. "But 'tis not as simple as one may feel inclined to believe. I am not a jealous sort, nor do I feel envious of others, for I do enjoy my life to a certain degree, and I am proud, to say the least, in all that I have endured and accomplished. This may sound vain to hear, but please think me not some pedantic girl whose own self-aggrandizing led to her demise.

"It is just, as of late, I have grown unbearably tired of the events to which my life has presented me thus far. Life falls far from fairness, but I do feel as if, by doing some sort of good in this world, you deserve a bit of good in return. It seems that be the least that might occur, but it matters not what I do. I need not flirt with men and cause scandal for the family, worrying mama so as Lydia had, or be just as worse, following another for lack of spontaneity in their own persona, as Kitty. I was not so independent and self-assured that I find the necessity to always voice my opinion, despite the objections one knows might arise, as Elizabeth, though it is a trait I do not find particularly unsatisfactory. I was not so sweet to blind myself of the wretched truths of society like Jane. However, life has handled their affairs quite nicely, and it is I who am left here, uncertain of any future at all. It gets dreadfully intolerable, waiting the entirety of your life for it to begin, for a lady is nothing until she is wed, according to past generations and traditions that exist at present time."

"In due time your opportunity will present itself," Georgiana reassured. "You need not worry of such troubles, for you are most certainly not alone. I, too, am very much single and unwed."

"But men look at you, Georgiana, for you are beautiful. This society is one in which the greatest first impression that a person may give is their wealth and how pleasing their appearance may be. Unfortunately, for me, both are qualities in which I do not possess."

"You cannot think that, because people might think you plain, that they may not take the time to become acquainted with you?"

"Eighteen years of life has taught me no more."

"Why, Mary, I did not think you possible of thinking such a thought!" Georgiana exclaimed. "What an unpleasant thought to have within your mind. I cannot think you to think so ill of all."

"Do you not think I wish I did not know such a fact?" Mary spoke softly, her eyes downcast. "It is the most cumbersome thought that I have grown up with, and such a problem I cannot think of probable cause for such a thing occurring, and no amount of time has permitted me to find an answer behind it. Why must I stand alone at balls for eighteen years and go unnoticed still? Why be it that the only opportunity in which a multitude of men display interest in investing time with me during a ball be when I am dressed in finery and appearing as a doll? It is why no man before has displayed interest in a close acquaintance with me thus far and it is why Edward Pendleton married Kitty instead of me. In contrast with the ladies around me, I shall never compare. It matters not what I do, or how well I have endowed myself with accomplishments, for they shall never spare me the moment to allow myself to make known to them that I possess such attributes. I fear I prepare myself for a moment in life that shall never occur, and I was always so impatient that eighteen years of waiting does much to the diminishment of my spirit." Mary wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up with a wan smile. "I do fear I have prattled for far too long of nothing. I do apologize for speaking so. It is not my usual custom to share such a burden with another. You need not worry of what is kept in the closet. It is supposed to be my own responsibility to watch over, and I do apologize for opening it up to you. You need not deserve…"

"Honestly, Mary, after such a time with you, you cannot suspect that I might not care to hear of what troubles you?" Georgiana reached over and held her hand. "You need not feel ashamed for such feelings. In all of your knowledge and logic, I have never heard more blessed news to my ears from you. You are merely a person, after all, Mary, and you have truly never sounded more human than you did before me just now."

"So this is what it feels like?" Mary grinned. "Perhaps I take all events in life far too literally, it is in my character, after all, to do thus. At least I shall have the comfort of knowing that this is an affair in which I am not the sole victim, for you are as much prey to this wait as am I."

"At least you are aware of such a thing now." Georgiana remarked and settled beneath the sheets. "So much talk, and it be already late when I returned to this room."

"I was always a dilatory one in regards to sleep," Mary stood and went to grab a shawl. "I think I shall indulge myself in the company of candlelight and literature for a bit. It provides much relief to the mind and body before I lay to bed."

"Whatever may work for you, Mary…" Georgiana's voice was already fading. "I…think… I shall… stay…here…"

* * *

18

Edward Pendleton had been restful since his arrival into the Bennet household, where they all welcomed him with such tenderness and sincerity, one might never have discerned that he had done so much injury to them. Though much relief was provided him at the news he shall not see Mary Bennet that afternoon, for she was within her room for the day with a sudden ailment, he soon desired for her presence, for he was quite certain he would prefer her cold glare besides Mrs. Bennet's warm appraisal.

Despite his own independence, caused by the death of his parents at such an early age, he had grown increasingly influenced by Lady Catherine De Bourgh, who grew especially close to his family after she had severed most ties with her nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, upon his marriage to Elizabeth Bennet. Such a severance to her connections with her nephew would be in vain, as she grew to welcome him back within her family, and even visited Pemberley for a weekend, in which she grew very much attached to one of the Bennet girls, who shared the same name as herself. She had a pleasant face about her, and she was patient to her ranting, and when Lady Catherine grew tired of such talk, the Bennet girl would always know what to say to provide her some slight comfort. It was a trait in which Catherine Bennet had developed during her lifetime aside Lydia, for Lydia was one who was either overly stimulated with excitement or unbearably cross, to which it was up to Catherine to pacify her. And it was a quality that Lady Catherine would soon value enough to offer the girl the opportunity to live with her, if she would only provide Lady Catherine the company she required during the day.

Catherine Bennet had obliged most reluctantly, and she adjusted quite rapidly, and took to the new lifestyle with much enthusiasm. She had still felt a great deal of slight in her younger sister being wed before she, but such a new lifestyle of lavishness was an opportunity in which Catherine knew Lydia shall never possess, and she took much comfort in such a thought, for she had been very much jealous of her sister. A lifetime in the shadow of another was replaced in a new life in the shadow of an even greater person, but Catherine Bennet was one of the few who took delight in it. She did not mind so that she sat unspoken for when guests called for Lady Catherine, for she was used to listening to others talk over herself all her life, and most guests found her just as delightful, thinking her to be a sweet girl with a very timid temper.

Edward Pendleton's intrigue for Mary Bennet was one in which it was not easily eradicated in her absence from his life, but the determination of Lady Catherine persevered over his newly developed attachment for this new acquaintance in his life. He wished very much to please her, and did not think it possible to go against her own desires as her nephew had done in his affairs with love, and in that sense he was able to display his weakness in pleasing those around him.

He soon conformed his previous affections prior to his visit to Rosings to now encompass a relationship with Catherine Bennet, and upon his first meeting with her, the transition from one sister to another was made particularly facile. Catherine Bennet's welcoming smile provided a security and safety for his future that Mary Bennet had failed to provide, in all her impulsiveness, and he grew especially attached to her soft features and convivial grin. She did not accentuate the pace of his heart to the extent in which Mary had upon her fraternizing with him, but it mattered not when he might wake up to the same bright eyes and dimpled smile. Her contribution to his esteem for himself only further contributed to his decision to abide by Lady Catherine's desire for their relations, for this Bennet knew well how to enlarge the egos and self-assurance of those in her direct contact.

His new wife had fallen asleep without another thought, and he had sat awake until he heard a figure walking about in the halls. Sensibility became absent in his decision to leave his room and follow the person down the staircase into the small parlor. He saw already a dim illumination through the cracks at the bottom of the closed door, and did not hesitate in the slightest degree before his abrupt entrance.

Mary Bennet had draped herself sideways across an armchair, with her back against one arm and her legs dangling off of the other. The small candle flickered atop a table beside the chair, and did not provide substantial lighting for the book that rested upon her lap.

"I knew that you would come to face me eventually, Mr. Pendleton, however I did not think that you should be one to obey inappropriate inclinations to speak with me in the darkness of the night, as if there is anything that need be hidden." Mary remarked, turning her head to face him.

"Please, Mary, you may call me Edward."

"I know I may, but I choose not to." Mary replied rudely. "I much rather prefer the callousness of formality over such an endearing gesture as calling another by their first name, for our relation is most impersonal and does not call for the usage of casualty."

"So now I might receive chastisement for my actions?" Edward questioned. "You do not think I desire for atonement for what I have done to you?"

"And what be the injuries that you have done to me?"

"You cannot think it necessary that I must inform you of my misgivings towards you."

"I find it most impertinent."

A period of silence passed now, in which Mary stared at him with a calm collectiveness that appeared so very frightening to Edward, whose eyes shifted to every feature of hers in nervousness. He looked now at a different person, whose hair was flat and the features he found particularly satisfying before were nonexistent or suddenly appeared awkward upon her face. The transfiguration of Mary Bennet since last Edward Pendleton had seen her was extraordinary. She possessed still the reserved composure and aplomb that the men at the ball at Pemberley had noted, and Edward Pendleton found himself gazing at her with the same hesitancy and apprehension as those men who had chose to keep a distance from her.

"My statements before my departure for London were most inappropriate and unnecessary, and I do apologize for placing the burden of waiting upon you. I had provided you with a false hope that I did not intentionally instill, for I did have pure thoughts and much assurance that I would carry out my plans that I spoke of to you."

"I do wonder how a man who spoke with such assurance could so easily sway from previous claims that had been spoken of so passionately less than a fortnight ago."

"You must not think ill of me, Mary," Edward began, his face full of defeat. "But as I told you, my connections in London did possess other plans for my future. A future with another woman. Would it be within my ranking to disobey the orders of those whose respect and guidance I revere? I owe them much."

"Of course, for we are all merely slaves to complaisance, after all." Mary remarked. "Of what might life provide in regards to happiness if our actions were not first approved by all?"

"I try to be fair to you, Mary. Please provide me with the same respect, if you may."

"And I suppose now I must be overpowered to comply to your wish, for I have not the choice but to please you? Be that the case?"

"Mary, you are being most distasteful towards me."

"Were we to compromise all that we wish for and all that we are merely for the sake of our desire to not upset all those around you, we shall compromise our lives to the grave. Of what is left of a person after they have denied themselves of all that they initially want, if only so that all might approve of their actions?"

"You might not think my decision to be of substantial reason, but it was the logic which governed me."

"So I suppose if I did not eat supper until every person in all of Hertfordshire approved, it would be the most logical response to starve myself? For not every single person within your acquaintance will approve of every action that you take. You shall die hungry for more in life."

"Perhaps you should become a preacher's wife, Mary, for you do take great enjoyment in chastising those in your acquaintance with your own morals and beliefs."

"Forgive me for having opinions to voice, for I did not realize such a quality was disapproved of in society. Perhaps I should spend a greater quantity of time making myself up to par with such aspects."

"Such cynicism is most unsatisfactory…"

"Be that your own thoughts or that which your beloved Lady Catherine wishes for you to adapt as your own?"

"I know not what to speak of with you, Mary, for it does appear as if all that I might say shall be tossed back at my feet."

"I wish to know of what you think, Edward, not…"

"Thank the Lord you did not say Mr. Pendleton."

"I allowed that to slip, it shall not happen again, but I wish to know of your own beliefs in the matter, and not the logic with which those instilled upon you during your visit to London."

"And what of my opinions did you wish to be aware of?"

"Whatever compelled you to marry my sister?"

"Catherine had presented herself in such a fashionable manner that it did appear to be a wise decision, especially at the urgence of Lady Catherine, who had many a high regard towards her. The decision seemed fairly simple and easy, and it was not as if Catherine were intolerable or insufferable. She provided herself as a safe companion to which I might spend the entirety of my life with."

"Be that all of your reasons?" Mary questioned. "That the decision to be with her would be easier than that which would be if you had married me?"

"Whatever do you mean to imply in that statement, Mary?"

"You did not choose her because she was beautiful and I am not?"

"No! No, never might I instill such an injustice upon you! The thoughts of beauty never passed through my mind during my acquaintance with Catherine Bennet."

"When you lie, your nostrils flare in quite an outrageous fashion."

"What an acute observation," Edward's face flashed hot at her remark.

"You owe me nothing, and I cannot understand why you choose to refrain from speaking the truth for fear it might injure me, after all the injury you have done thus far."

"Your sister is beautiful, Mary." Edward moved to a settee, where he rested his elbows upon his knees and dug his fingers into his hair. "I must be candid now, for if I evade such things, we are apt to remain here for the remainder of the night, and I do not think it to be of the greatest appropriateness, were all to enter and see you and me within this room alone and in our night garments. I was not so willing to abide by Lady Catherine's demands upon my visit to her. I very much wished to allow my visit to pass in the most rapid manner, so as I might return to you and renew my sentiments. However, it was most difficult to deny a relation with Catherine when I first saw her. She looked divine in all of her pink lace and ribbons, and I fell in love with her smile before our departure from our first meeting. I do very much enjoy to speak of my stories of the past, and she appeared to receive the same enjoyment in listening to it. She was a master in conversation, and knew of what was in need to be said after all that I told. I suppose she must, if she resides with Lady Catherine, for many know not what is needed to be said to please her, and she must have done superbly if she was so agreeable to Lady Catherine that she would offer her to live with her for her own enjoyment in her company. She was not disagreeable at all, and I do admit that I did enjoy her company immensely, just as Lady Catherine had."

"So she won you over with her pretty smiles and her ability to say what you wished to hear?" Mary questioned. "You must be aware that she knows this only because she had spent the longevity of her life with a sister in which she was required to say all that might be needed to as to provide her sister with proper nutrition of her vanity each passing day?"

"Why do you feel the need to speak ill of your sister?"

"I do not speak ill. I speak the truth. To speak ill would be to say that in all of my acquaintance, I have never met more of a coward of a man than that which stands before me. Who can so easily alter his own wants and desires because he is reigned by a complaisance that far exceeds all that I have ever met in my life."

"Is that all that needs to be said, Mary?" Edward asked. "Have you had your fill of insulting me?"

"I understand now. How simple it may be to change your opinions, when faced with a girl with a pretty smile and amiable façade of mildness."

"You do not think ill of me, do you, Mary?" Edward looked up now, his eyes gleaming with a hope that reminded Mary of his speech at Pemberley. "I could not bear to think that I have lost you acquaintance, for it is one that I hold with much esteem."

"I suppose I cannot place blame upon you for making a decision that I am most certain every man might have made," Mary sighed. "'Tis the way of the world, after all, and who am I to question such occurrences of nature that are so very evident in everyday life?"

"You will join us at breakfast then, tomorrow?"

"I suppose I might be able to find a rapid recovery by dawn."

"We are leaving tomorrow, and I would wish that you see your sister, if you can, for she does care for you greatly, of that I am sure."

"I am sure Kitty will wish to share her ring with me, and all the fineries which await her in the future." Mary responded. "But I cannot blame her, for every woman upon finding themselves within wedlock finds it a necessity to share all of their providence to those who they know."

"Catherine is not like that, I assure you most confidently."

"I have known Kitty since the day she entered this world, Edward Pendleton, and I am sure that I am well aware of the habits and ways in which she governs her life."

"Even now, I grow unaccustomed to the way in which you are willing to challenge those around you." Edward smiled. "You shall make a man very entertaining company someday, Mary. He shall be very happy to be in your acquaintance."

"Perhaps I shall display myself as a puppy now, for I might be the fun sort of creature who entertains the world with my barking?" Mary stood up and headed towards the door.

"I do pity the man who plans to govern you, Mary, for I do doubt he shall reap much success."

"I dare say he shall reap nothing at all."


	10. Volume I Part 10

**AN: **The last two chapters of Volume I. Hope it measures up. Thank you for those who have R&R. I do pray that you all continue, and that you spare some time to tell me what you think. So here we go with the chapter...

* * *

**19**

Though Mary had heard what was in necessity of being said by Edward, she did not find sleep easily, but rather spent the remainder of the night in circumspect of her life. Edward Pendleton slept soundly beside his new wife, and they both dreamt of a happy future ahead for them both.

_Perhaps I should give up entirely on this pursuit for a man. What had initially began as mama's fruitless attempts had now became an opportunity for myself in which I may prove my claims wrong that a man might, in the chance of choosing between two women, decide upon the less beautiful of the two. How often shall I cross a man who is able to see something of worth within me but lose all earnestness he felt when a woman whose countenance is more appealing than my own appears? Of whatis there to offer a man when he has seen all there is of me and still does not find me satisfactory? Though such downtrodden sentiments are to provide me with no means of comfort, I feel pity for myself in this situation, for never have I met a man who I could truly imagine myself with in the future. Maybe that is my own subconscious wishing to speak of the truth of the matter and that I am, and forever will be, destined to be alone. Perhaps there is such a thing as fate…and that fate speaks of my own solitude._

"Oh, Mr. Pendleton, how happy I am for the two of you!" Mrs. Bennet declared at the breakfast table. "I do hope that you enjoy the plate we have given you. It is of the utmost quality, of that I may reassure you. Many blessings upon your marriage! I might never have known such happiness before!"

"Thank you for your kindness," Edward appeared more comfortable in the morning, and managed a natural smile. "I am a most fortunate man to be married to such an extraordinary woman."

"Do you not hear how he spoils me so?" Kitty giggled, her ringed hand covering her dimpled smile, and she turned to Mary. "I do think I might not have asked for more from life."

"I do suppose after all that has occurred to you, that shall be the case." Mary smiled weakly, and Georgiana giggled. "I am sure you shall be the best spouse that you can possibly be."

"Well, of course I must." Kitty responded. "However could I be anything less, when married to such a man?"

"At least you both shall take comfort in the knowledge that your love is reciprocated," Georgiana remarked. "I do wonder if many couples are able to boast of such a thing."

"Oh, but of course they must! Whyever would you marry if that be not the case?" Kitty asked naively.

"Might it be because not every person may boast of having enough to recommend themselves to the respectable gentlemen they would initially desire to marry?" Mary suggested with raised eyebrows.

"Whatever do you mean, Mary?" Kitty inquired.

"You are a silly girl as ever," Mary grinned at the realization.

"Do you mean to tell me, Mary, that you think me a gentleman after all?" Edward entered the conversation, noticing the discord between the two. "I am very honored to hear that."

"Do not flatter yourself," Mary replied stiffly.

"And such a lovely day it is!" Mrs. Bennet noticed the tension as well. "Such good weather for traveling, I do declare. You are both very fortunate to have such conditions."

"Of course," Edward smiled and turned to Mary in a hushed voice. "You need not treat me so publicly."

"I am not one to be different in any other environment," Mary answered. "And I shall not apologize for not having the complaisance to change my habits in every place I step within."

"So what are your plans now, Mary, since your previous ones are no longer possible?"

"To stay as far away from you and your tedious ways as possible."

"Whatever are you whispering about, Edward?" Kitty leaned across the table to face her husband. "No sweet little nothings, I do hope."

"None at all, those are reserved primarily for you." Edward smiled at her and then turned to look at Mary, who had sat back in her seat from across him.

"Then whatever were you whispering about?" Kitty questioned. "Us married people should not hide secrets, especially when married only the day before."

"We were discussing the possibility of Mary's future," Edward answered.

"Oh," Kitty sat back and turned to Mary. "And what was it that you have decided?"

"She has thought it best if she joins us on our way back to East Yorkshire," Edward responded for Mary.

"She is what?"

"I am what?"

"Yes, Mary shall be leaving with us to East Yorkshire," Edward grew more confident with each word. "I do feel a new environment will be of the most benefit to her, and I am sure that there are some within my acquaintance who might wish to call her to be their own as well."

"It does appear my days get better!" Mrs. Bennet rejoiced, standing up. "Blessed, happy days! Mary shall go off to East Yorkshire!"

"I must think of the situation before I decide completely," Mary spoke for the first time since Edward's declaration. "It is one of the utmost impertinence pertaining to my future. I do feel as if I shall need some time."

"We shall leave in the afternoon though," Edward reminded. "Do try not to invest too much of your morning in thought, Mary, otherwise you might not have time to pack."

"My possessions are so very few, I do doubt if it shall take more than a few minutes to place them within a trunk." Mary replied. "So I suppose that leaves me with the remainder of the morning to consider the offer."

"Offer? But, Edward, I thought that we should have the estate to ourselves for a bit. We are just married!" Kitty cried out in a fashion that appeared more like an outburst typical of Lydia. "Would you wish not to spend some time with your new wife?"

"We shall have our alone time, my dear." Mary could see Mr. Bennet chuckle at Edward's words. "The estate is quite large, and it shall appear as if it is all to our lonesome. That I reassure you."

"Oh, but must I entertain guests already when I know not the place with which I shall be living? I am not accustomed to tours and such."

"You need not trouble yourself over me. I am perfectly apt to explore the estate myself, and shall not require your assistance in guiding me through the halls."

"So you _do_ plan to go?" Kitty questioned.

"I am not sure," Mary looked over at Georgiana. "I do not know."

"Well of course you shall not object to such a offer!" Kitty cried out and her eyes bore down on her husband malevolently. "I cannot think you one to so easily ruin our marriage by choosing to have my sister's presence in our home!"

"Now, Kitty, I do feel as if you are acting rather rashly," Mr. Bennet told his daughter. "Your husband is merely offering your sister an opportunity that I am sure you would agree would be of much benefit to her. You may not even notice her presence, in such a large home."

"I have not been married a sennight and my family wishes to move in already!" Kitty slammed her napkin upon the table, and all of the china shook.

"Need I remind you that Jane and Elizabeth were most reluctant to allow you to reside with them so early in their marriage?" Mr. Bennet stated. "And I do believe you took up the offer, did you not?"

"Oh, you are all so terrible for putting me in such a disposition!" Kitty covered her face and headed towards the door. "I cannot believe you ask of such things from me!"

"After seventeen years of devotion towards you, do you not think you might do some good for this family?" Mrs. Bennet headed after her but stopped before exiting, and merely closed the door and turned towards Edward. "Perhaps I might fetch you a warm brew of tea, Mr. Pendleton?"

"Oh, it is alright. I am quite satisfied with this cup." He smiled weakly and stood. "I do feel that I must retire for a bit."

He bowed his head and left.

"My, might you have guessed the morning might take such a turn?" Mrs. Bennet commented when she had sat down. "I do feel as if that my poor nerves shall never find relief, with such children. Ungrateful children! To be so selfish when mama asks not much from any of them!"

"Of course, my dear, but Kitty was always a silly girl." Mr. Bennet replied.

"Silly, Mr. Bennet? Why, I do feel as if she were no child of mine as she cried like such a babe. I have never been so humiliated! And with a new member of the family we wished to welcome into our household present! Didshe never learn the proper mannerisms that are appropriate within the presence of company?"

"Mama, you need not be so harsh upon her, when all that she knows of etiquette be what you had taught her during a lifetime."

Georgiana giggled and Mr. Bennet read his book, unperturbed by the conversation. Mrs. Bennet did not take heed to Mary's remark, and continued her tirade of her daughter's actions before all soon stood to tend to other matters of the day and escape Mrs. Bennet's prattling.

* * *

**20**

"Oh, but Mary, you must!" Georgiana urged when they had closed the door of their room. "It is quite a hospitable offer, and Edward does have friendly acquaintances that shall suit you better, I am sure."

"Do you not find the peculiarity of his proposal, when the previous day there was much conflict still between the two of us? That I should now reside within the home of the man who had promised me a future and then forgot such endeavors to marry my sister?"

"You have forgiven him, though."

"I cannot hold such a grudge against him, when that is the habit of most people within my acquaintance to take the actions that he had."

"Then what is left to be feared? You should not pass upon such an opportunity, Mary. I cannot stand for you to."

"I would think that you, of all people, might object to my consent of his offer."

"Whyever would I object? I am sure there are amiable men within East Yorkshire, and the country there is very romantic. Why it is the perfect setting for love. However might a man not take upon the opportunity of such a romance?"

"I am sure many men have, but surely not with women such as myself."

"You never were one to give yourself much credit, Mary." Georgiana brought out Mary's trunk and began gathering her clothes from the bureau. "Need I constantly remind you of the attention you received at the ball upon your visit to Pemberley?"

"You forget I no longer look like that, Georgiana."

"Are you not the same person as you were then?"

"That matters not if I have not the same countenance about my face. However would they determine myself to be the same, if they cannot bear beyond the differing appearances?"

"Well, you must write me as often as you are able," Georgiana closed the trunk and sat upon it. "It does appear as if you shall be going to East Yorkshire."

"East Yorkshire," Mary took a breath. "I know not what to expect. I have never ventured so far before."

"I do think that you shall be the traveling sort of person," Georgiana remarked. "Imagine, your first adventure. There shall be much opportunity up North for you, I am sure."

"And if there is no adventure to be had, and I do not enjoy myself at all?"

"Then you shall be forced to think of the adventures you might have, had you stayed in Hertfordshire with your family."

"There is no adventure to be had."

"Then remember that, and you shall take comfort in knowing that you are off away from such humdrum."

"I cannot think that I could possibly leave you to mama to entertain you," Mary shook her head. "Why, I do think that she might grow bored of not always having her nerves so troubled that she might partake in the task of having you wed as well."

"Perhaps, in that case, I shall consider returning home to Pemberley in the next few days." Georgiana sighed. "I do fear you have made a country girl of me."

"You could be placed in all of the world, and you should adjust well, I am sure." Mary complimented. "People cannot help but feel some inclination of pleasure while in your presence, for you are most affable and convivial and good-natured."

"I have my own puerile whims, and I do doubt those are as attractive as you paint them to be." Georgiana responded. "And how might I be the one more probable to adapt to such new environments, when you adjusted so very well at Pemberley and I have done nothing at Hertfordshire but paint and savor the atmosphere?"

"It shall be odd to not have you near me no longer, Georgiana," Mary remarked. "It does appear as if we are sisters now, especially since I have been alone for so long since all of my sisters left me with mama. Your company has been most appreciated."

"I owe much gratitude for you allowing me to reside here, and for being so very hospitable."

"It was only what you had done to me when I had visited Pemberley."

"If we are frank, I must admit I enjoyed to indulge my fantasy that we were sisters and this was our family at Hertfordshire." Georgiana giggled. "I do miss my rides with my brother and afternoons by the lake, where we might talk of anything we wished, whether it be ridiculous nonsense or something of incite."

Youthful laughter filled the walls in an old familiar way of almost a year prior, and when the chortles had passed, the room's din of jollity was replaced with a silence that ended abruptly. Down the hall, rapid footsteps were heard, in which large objects were heard being dropped or thrown, and angry voices passed through the walls into the room where Mary and Georgiana sat.

"Do you have no consideration towards this marriage, Edward?" Kitty cried, her belongings being tossed and thrown into luggage. "That perhaps your new wife might desire to spend some time with her husband, especially when there is still so much we know not of one another?"

"Catherine, I do reassure you, my intentions were most pure, and they were never intended to be of injury towards you."

"My, I do wonder how often you are inclined to say such statements, if you can so carelessly cause such grievances."

"You are unfair, Catherine, when I was merely being hospitable to your family."

"Is that what they call such sentiments now? Mere hospitality?"

"Whatever do you mean by…"

"You cannot tell me that there was nothing between you and my sister!" Kitty bellowed. "I am not so foolish as you might think me, nor am I daft enough to be so ignorant that you had such plans to marry my sister prior to your visit to London."

"Had my intentions been strong, or my attachment great, do you think I would have fallen in love with you and chose you for a wife? Kitty, you give me no credit."

"Oh, I do give you much credit, Edward. Credit for lies and carelessness and deceit!"

"If we must give credit, my dear, than you deserve your credit of jealousy, which is all that I sense within you at this current moment."

"Jealousy? You think this is jealousy?"

"Why else would you care of a woman that meant not enough for me to marry?" Edward reached out and held her wrists in his hands. "Catherine, it is you that I love."

"Kitty! Kitty! My name is Kitty!" she sobbed hysterically, and would have fallen to the ground, had not Edward pressed her against his chest, where she cried against his shoulder, her hands clasping his shoulders tightly. "You chose me, Edward. You chose to be with me. Please, please, and need I beg please, do not go and break my heart. I cannot bear it."

"You do not give me enough credit there," Edward placed a kiss upon her head. "My choice shall be you forever. Do believe me… Kitty."

"I want to believe you. I do. I really do." Her back shook still with her hysterics. "Oh Edward, just never stray from me. I wish to call you my own."

"I am but yours," Edward reassured. "You must believe me that I mean only to help your family out in my offer."

"I want to believe you, Edward."

"You would not object entirely if Mary did come with us, would you? If it truly did distress you so…"

"No, no, I shall be fine." Kitty stifled her breath once before she looked up. "It would not be such a sisterly gesture if I did not approve of such a beneficial decision for my sister."

"So she shall return with us to East Yorkshire?"

"Do you think she shall enjoy life at Chamberlain Hall?" Kitty questioned.

"If not, I am sure she might find some enjoyment at Bridlington Harbor," Edward remarked. "Has Mary ever seen the sea?"

"I do not think she has."

"Have you seen the sea?"

"When I was in London, I had stopped by the harbors once. I found it quite distasteful. How repulsive the smell of fish and the society there! It was more objectionable and unpleasant."

"You disagreed with the people at the harbor?" Edward chuckled. "If I might object, I do think that the society there shall be of much interest to Miss Mary Bennet and that she shall find it, or grow to find it, to be very satisfactory to her tastes."

* * *

**AN: **So concludes Volume I of this tale. I hope that it provided you all with substantial enjoyment and that you shall find the remaining two to be just as, or hopefully more, to your liking. If you wish to see a sneak preview of some of the setting, you can look up Burton Constable Hall, which will be the model of Pendleton's house. Also, Bridlington Harbor will play much significance in the future, and that might be of interest as well. I do think that such info might deserve me a bit of imput on this part, or volume, or just the story or suggestions or anything really. 


	11. Volume II Part 1

**Volume II **

**1**

Mary's departure with the Pendleton's to East Yorkshire was partook with much silence on the middle Bennet's part. Throughout the duration of Kitty's nonsense in fondling her new husband with sweet praise and giggles, Mary had held her tongue and only spoke with a look of chastisement in her eyes that was very much noticed by her new brother-in-law.

Mrs. Bennet had seen her daughters off with very optimistic sentiments. With Mary left to be wed, she was of the highest certainty that her time in East Yorkshire would place Mary within the acquaintance of a man of just as high of society as Edward Pendleton, and she did not hesitate to speak of her good fortune with her husband, who soon began to lock the door of his study to prevent her intrusion.

Georgiana Darcy departed for Pemberley the following day, whereupon she was greeted to an empty house, since Elizabeth and her brother had left for a trip to London. However, such thoughts of loneliness were not present within her youthful being, for she found herself easily enveloped in the affairs of balls and couples and fashion once more. As much as the Darcy girl desired to elope into the life of the country, she would never deny herself the luxuries of her heritage if ever she was presented with it.

"My, and I thought that the words were too good to be true!" Kitty was helped out of the carriage by her husband and she gasped. "Why, Edward, however could you be so modest?"

Chamberlain Hall, the home of Edward Pendleton, was a vast estate encompassing a large plot of country in East Yorkshire. The great structure seemed overbearing amongst the tall grass and trees, and appeared to be more easily situated within town, where such grandiose edifices were common to passerby. Its dominant countenance perturbed Mary, for Edward Pendleton did not appear suited for a home of such a stalwart structure.

"Mary!"

At the urgings of his wife, Edward Pendleton had situated Mary Bennet on the opposite side of the building, where Mary received a spectacular view of a water structure built similar to a lake, and to which she found most calming. However, even the tranquil landscape evoked through the window pane was obstructed by the spectacle of her room. Cast in a golden light, the majority of furniture within the room possessed a gold tint to them, and the shimmer of the space made Mary hesitant at first to move about, as if she were trespassing amongst forbidden treasures.

Towards the evening, Mary had objected to attending dinner, insisting that travel made her lose her appetite, to which the servants sent up a dish despite her orders. Her hesitancy at first to touch her surroundings dissipated until she was rearranging the furniture, moving her vanity away from the window so she might place a settee in front of it to observe the view.

William Cadaver had been unaware of Mary's attendance at Chamberlain Hall until he overheard two servant girls giggling about some strange girl who they were delivering supper to. Abandoning the other servant who was stacking dishes in the kitchens, he followed their high pitched giggles until they reached the golden room. Hidden inside a room across the hall, he waited patiently for them to depart from the room they had entered and head back towards the kitchens.

Mary Bennet sat hugging her legs as her chin rested upon her knees, looking out at a sun setting over the horizon. Enthralled at the sight before her, she did not take notice of William's presence, which enabled him to observe her with meticulous care.

Her hair remained down and had cascaded down her entire back, appearing like a black velvet cape. Her cheeks seemed to have far more color than the average ruddy complexion of many women, but not even the natural scarlet of her cheeks could compare to that of full lips that seemed to purse out in wonder, as if she were thinking a deep thought that required her to think intently. She was no beauty, nor was she handsome, but there was something appealing in seeing her consumed in absorbed thought that appealed to him, and he found it to be as enchanting as any lady of immense magnetism.

"Mary!" he repeated her name once more before her head shook and she departed from her previous contemplation. "I did not know you would be residing at Chamberlain Hall with my master."

"He has been most obliging, as of late." Mary responded. "It seemed discourteous of myself to deny his offer."

"Is this not exquisite?" William asked. "I do wonder, oft times enough, if such a place could possibly be real, and I have lived here since I was thirteen."

"It does appear too immaculate for inhabitance," Mary agreed. "I have no doubt Kitty is quite smitten with herself in her providential circumstances."

"I am sorry, Mary." William approached her and leaned against the settee. "I do not know how fixated you were upon my master, but I must say that these conditions past you by merely because life shall present you with far better than that which my master has to offer you."

"Is there much to entertain a person in East Yorkshire?"

"There are balls, as there are any other place…"

"No, if I wish to place myself in misery, I may do so by remaining at home." Mary shook her head. "I wish to attempt new ventures, if I may be so bold to pursue such a thing."

"What sorts of ventures, might I inquire, are you pursuing?"

"If I may be alone for the longevity of my life, I shall wish to do so in a most pleasing fashion." Mary began. "I shall not peruse such practicalities as would restrain me to reside within a home, awaiting for some gentleman to come calling upon me. I shall wish to explore, and do all that a woman might possibly can. It might not be such a great feat as sailing to the Mediterranean, but I should like to explore this place. Though I reside in the same country, it is of such a foreign environment. I am most certain the culture of such a place must differ from that of my home, and I wish to learn all that I possibly can in the duration of my visit."

"I should of suspected such intentions from you."

"Be my actions so predictable?" Mary smiled. "I suppose I must seem so droll."

"Not at all," William disagreed. "Why, you are a very intriguing companion, Mary. I cannot imagine such humdrum while in your presence."

"Perhaps you might do me the honor of introducing East Yorkshire to me?" Mary suggested.

"It would be my honor entirely if I could do such a favor," William grinned. "I do hope the place is up to your expectations."

"There are no expectations," Mary responded. "Therefore, I shall receive no dissatisfaction in whatever may await me."

"That does appear as if it be the way to go."

"It does appear so," Mary agreed.

"Oh, I know exactly where I shall take you tomorrow!" William exclaimed gleefully, jumped up. "You would not be troubled with waking before dawn, would you?"

"Not at all. I dare say I will get no sleep at all, considering I am anxious to be out and to see this new place."

"Oh, but my master will not approve of you leaving so early in the morning," William frowned. "He shall think me to do you injustice by causing such a scandal…"

"Do not worry over Edward," Mary placed a hand on his arm to calm him. "I am not sworn to obedience on his behalf, and my reputation is entirely my own to decide upon whether I am willing to ruin it. If I choose to go out into the darkness of the morning with you to explore East Yorkshire, I shall do so whether all of the country thinks it disreputable."

"Then do dress a bit warm, for it does get quite chilled before the sun rises in this area of the country." William informed. "And do meet me on the doorstep of the main building as early as you can. I, too, doubt I shall sleep much for anticipation for tomorrow."

"I shall wear a shawl and extra petticoats, if that shall suffice."

"I am sure it shall," William laughed. "I am sure my master shall not be pleased in you being introduced to the town before he could perform the task for you. He shall wish to be the one to…"

"My Lord, William, I care not what Edward might possibly wish for me." Mary interrupted. "Whatever his intentions may be, I shall not allow them to prevent me to do what I would initially desire to do, and I would take much delight in having you show me all there is that is worth to be acquainted with in East Yorkshire."

"My, and I thought you might expect that you should wait for him to provide you with a tour," William remarked. "He did, after all, allow you to reside at Chamberlain Hall, and I am sure that most within your same position would take upon the expected role of an obedient guest."

"You forget I am not one to submit to what is to be expected from me."

"Of course," William chuckled. "However could I forget?"

* * *

**2 **

Anticipation had denied Mary Bennet a night of slumber, and she took to readying herself when the stars first began to fade. Clad in a plain brown gown of gingham and a cape of black, she knew she looked very much like a girl from the farm, and so she kept her hair down to diminish her apparent facade.

Though she found herself more homely than usual in such plain attire, William found himself standing from where he sat atop the steps of Chamberlain Hall's entrance when she slipped through the doors. It was true that she dressed more simple than she ordinarily would, but cast within the shadows of the hood of her dark cape, he could distinguish the scarlet color about her face that made her so very enchanting and her large eyes that twinkled even within the darkness with some unknown mystery.

"Is there explanation for why we must depart so early in the day?" Mary inquired when William helped her atop a horse that was tied to a tree in the front.

"If I chose to tell, then the surprise I wish to bestow upon you shall no longer be a surprise," William grinned before they galloped towards the town.

Mary Bennet and William Cadaver had arrived at town promptly before dawn, but they did not linger in the streets, but hurried across until they reached the ocean, where William tied the reigns of the horse to a street post and escorted Mary across a dock. There, numerous ships were lined up, and a few burly sailors were seen leaning against masts and railings, awaiting for the rest of the crew to awaken to unload.

"Be there a reason for you to direct me to the docks?"

"There is always a reason," William pulled her across until they stood at the very edge, before a small boat. "There is a person here who I desire that you should meet."

"A person?"

"William!" a shadowed figure of a man was seem emerging from the cabin below the small vessel. "A bit early for you to visit, do you not think so?"

"I did hope that I might find you at a time where you were not too preoccupied with your own business," William explained. "Have I chosen an appropriate time?"

"I may always find time for some family," the man laughed and approached the railing across from where William and Mary stood, where he held out a hand to Mary. "Do forgive me for ignoring you until this moment, Miss. I do not have the privilege of being in the acquaintance of ladies very often, so I easily forget my manners."

"There is nothing to forgive, for I did not introduce myself as instantaneously as courtesy would demand from myself."

"I am Jonathan Cadaver, Miss." It was upon this instance that Mary placed her hand in his and he bowed to place a kiss atop it. "There is not much to which I may recommend myself, but I am a sailor upon The Rosemary, first mate, if I may be exact, and have been upon ships for near seven years now, I do believe."

"I have not much to recommend myself either," Mary found it rather effortless to respond to him. "I come from the country, and am the middle child amongst five daughters. I am the only unwed one, though that might sound inappropriate in conversation to announce, but I suppose it be as much a part of who I am than all other attributes. I have come to visit East Yorkshire upon my younger sister's marriage to Edward Pendleton, to whom your brother works for. He has stolen me into the darkness of the morning to come here and meet you; I think that be the reason that we left so early."

"You are very pleasant to listen to," Jonathan Cadaver commented. "I do assume you hear similar flattery very often though, Miss?"

"Often? Not at all," Mary laughed but found herself growing hot with a blush.

"What a shame," William pulled Mary back as Jonathan jumped over the rails upon the dock. "I do not think the crew shall mind if I depart for a bit. I am sure they shall understand when they lay their eyes upon the lady to which I have the honor of acquainting."

"Please forgive my brother," William whispered as they walked down the streets. "He is known to be a flirt."

"I must say I did not notice," Mary giggled when she turned from William and saw his brother staring at her.

"Do you often visit East Yorkshire, Miss Mary?"

"This is my first."

"Perhaps this shall not be your last?"

"Well, I must admit the company is quite stimulating, so I do think I shall return again."

"Where are we off to, brother?" Jonathan asked when William led them to turn another corner. "Do tell you are not to send us to a dead end."

"We are off to eat," William replied. "It seems only proper that we provide ourselves with the proper nourishment we intake every other day."

"Do you not think my brother so very proper?" Jonathan laughed and patted his back. "Do loosen up that cravat of yours. I would not wish for my brother to choke so early into the day."

In all of her acquaintance, Mary Bennet had never met a man more outrageous. She did not come from a family of vast wealth, and not even those of penury existence within Meryton appeared in such attire as that of Jonathan Cadaver. He wore dark breeches with enigmatic stains and patches, and a shirt that was ripped upon the sleeves and at the chest, where a broad chest was slightly exposed in a display that was most inappropriate for gentlemen of the time. He possessed nearly identical features to William, with the same tone to his hair and the same cowlick that cast locks upon his forehead. A slight shadow was upon his jaw, and Mary had never seen a man so unkempt, with dirt upon his hands and his face too long neglected by a blade.

William had chosen a small building where many boarded after long voyages at sea, and the small area to dine was nearly full upon their arrival as the sun peaked atop the horizon. A rotund woman placed warm beverages for them, and Jonathan Cadaver had shot down three glasses before she had returned to ask for their breakfast orders. His lack of polish and mannerisms would have appalled Mary at any other time, but she now felt exhilarated, already knowing her actions in departing so early without Edward's knowledge would place her in much trouble. Her new acquaintance merely augmented the initial sentiments she had felt throughout the morning and she did not take heed of his unsuitable actions and only tossed back her head in strident laughter that she had never indulged in before.

"You did not tell me that Missy here was so very enchanting, brother." Jonathan nudged William as Mary looked about the room, soaking in the scenery around her. "I must admit I was not so reluctant to abandon my lodgings when I heard from the crew on deck that you had arrived, but I am very pleased that I chose to greet you now."

"She is a dear friend, John." William warned. "And she has friends in much higher places than that from which I stand. Do not do her injustice."

"I would never do a lady injustice," Jonathan answered, his eyes still dancing with youthful mischief. "Do you recall us as boys when we would compete to see who might receive the most kisses by sundown?"

"I know not why I chose to indulge such an activity," William laughed. "I was sure to lose each time."

"Of course you were," Jonathan slapped his brother's back before Mary turned around once more. "Is the location up to your standards, Miss Mary?"

"It is perfectly substantial," Mary reached for her glass and looked at the two grinning brothers. "What has you both smiling so roguishly?"

"We are merely soaking up the pleasure bestowed upon us by your presence this morning," Mary merely stared as Jonathan mimicked Mary's reach for a glass and he took a sip. "Have I caught you at an awkward moment, Miss Mary?"

"No… not at all." Mary now took a sip, but she found it difficult to swallow as Jonathan's eyes burned into her, as did his devilish smile. "I was thinking, is all."

"You are standing before an intellectual, John." William informed his brother. "Mary is the most cerebral woman I have within my acquaintance. I doubt you shall find a more knowledgeable companion."

"My, perhaps I should have you teach me a bit?" Jonathan suggested with the raise of an eyebrow. "For I possess not an ounce of intellect."

"I am sure I shall find some delight in teaching you," Mary laughed once more at his remarks, and now it was William who raised his eyebrows. "Though I am most certain it shall be an arduous task."

"Come, I am sure you have a cleverer word within that head of yours."

"I would not doubt it," Mary giggled.

"So shall I use this as opportunity to see you in the future, Miss Mary?"

"Use whatever you would like," Mary responded. "Any excuse would do."

* * *

"Mary," William kept the horse at a trot as they headed home. "Did you have a good morning?"

"Good?" Mary held out her arms widely. "I am most certain there is a better word to use than that to describe this experience."

"I shall take that as you had a splendid time," William looked back briefly and frowned. "I am very pleased that you enjoyed the company of my brother, Mary, but do take heed when in his presence. John is a rogue and he does not maintain platonic relations with ladies for long…"

"I have never had a greater time!" Mary laughed and placed a hand upon William's shoulder. "I understand now, William, what you have told me before. It is so much more rewarding to not allow such sensibilities and logistics to govern all of my actions. I feel so free… so…"

"Ridiculous?" William muttered.

"It does appear as if you are brooding, William…" Mary noted. "Do tell what is troubling you, so that I might help."

"I do think I rather enjoyed the sensible Mary over the silly one."

"I have waited eighteen years to have my fun," Mary responded light-heartedly, not noticing the tone of William's previous remark. "It has all been humdrum up to this point. Mere drollness that has been my companion thus far. But now I understand why my sisters so sought to be ridiculous, for it does provide the soul with far more vitality and stimulation than a lifetime of reason. Thank you William, for giving me such a moment of pure bliss. Never before might I have thought it possible."

"Of course," William lowered his head, not willing to destroy her present joy with his own troubles of it. "I am glad that I have been able to present you to such happiness."

"Mary!"

Since he had awoken and heard of Mary's disappearance into the morning by the servants, Edward Pendleton had been restless. Though his neglect towards his new wife did not provide him any relief, his guilt for disregarding his wife was easily surpassed by his concern towards Mary's whereabouts. He stood atop the doorsteps of his home, awaiting her arrival, and he began to run at the first sight of Mary in the distance.

"Edward?" Mary gazed down at him as he bent over, attempting to catch his breath. "You know you were not required to race over here in such a display."

"Do you have the slightest idea of the degree of worry I had when I awoke to hear that you had ran off in the dark to Lord only knows where?" Edward held out a hand. "Come and get off the horse now."

"Now? We are almost home."

"You are perfectly capable of walking."

"It would be excruciatingly rude to abandon William after the justice he has done me the entire morning."

"And it was excruciatingly rude of me to abandon my wife after the justice she has done me by our wedlock, but I have done it." Edward snapped. "I am not one to play games with you this instance, Mary, and I demand that you depart from that horse and walk back."

"You are not one to order me around," Mary bit back as she hopped from the horse without his assistance and continued to walk away. "I am not one of your servants that owe you anything."

"Regardless, you should show the courtesy of informing me of your whereabouts before you leave."

"Nor are you my parents, who require such things."

"But, like your parents, I care about you and I shall never forgive myself if ever anything of harm came your way while you resided with me."

"How could you ruin such a perfect day!" Mary answered, halting her pace to turn to him. "Never before have I felt like this, and now you must proceed to diminish any happiness that I have accumulated throughout this day. How could you?"

"I do not mean to hurt you, Mary." Edward ran a hand through his hair. "It is just, I have been so concerned for you since I awoke and awaiting for your return every hour in vain has provided me with no relief, nor has my neglect towards Catherine."

"I did not demand that you partake in such actions, Edward. They were entirely your own choice."

"Yes, but I would wish to think that you might have undergone similar measures, had you been in the same circumstances as I."

"I…" Mary lowered her head now, as reality settled in. "Do forgive me for my misbehavior, Edward. It was most inappropriate and irresponsible."

"It is alright," Edward reached out and pulled her head up. "Do not feel so lowly. We are young only once."

"I hope my actions did not interfere with any of your plans for the day."

"Not too many of them."

"Oh…"

"I had Catherine send for your dress at Pemberley," Edward informed. "That was as far as I had gone in any tasks for the day."

"My dress?"

"Yes, the one that you wore to the Pemberley ball."

"Do you mean to tell me that…" Mary stopped, as she closed her eyes and awaited the answer she knew would come.

"There is a particular friend of mine who shall arrive in the next few days," Edward explained. "I have told him about you, and he is anticipating becoming acquainted with you, and Catherine and myself thought the best way with which to introduce you to such a gentleman would surely be through the means of a ball at Chamberlain Hall."


	12. Volume II Part 2

AN: Do forgive me for keeping you in the dark for this new change in everything. I do hope these two chapters shall clear up some concerns of some of my lovely reviewers, who I love to death for their constant feedback, (i.e. June W, Skydancinghobbit, MorganisM-Lve, etc…). I do promise that Mary shall find herself a man in the end, it just might take awhile to develop to that point, but please do be patient with me. I hope you enjoy these chapters, and do not forget to tell me what you think because that always helps. Suggestions are always taken in with much delight, and some of your critiques have helped me in the development in the plot thus far. Thank you so much to those who have R&R. I do hope that you continue doing what I love you all to do so very much! Now enough of my ranting, and back to the good stuff…

* * *

**3 **

Before Mary Bennet was even permitted to explore the vast lands surrounding Chamberlain Hall again, she was once again consumed into the world she wished to be not a part of. At breakfast and supper, she had to tolerate her married sister's plans for a ball she was to be throwing, and Mary could not help but notice the smug looks upon her sister's face as she inquired her opinions on the matter.

When her dress from Pemberley was delivered a few days after Edward had informed her that he had sent word for it, he and his wife attempted through every means of their logic and reason to convince Mary if she would allow the servants to help her ready herself for the new visitor of Chamberlain Hall who would arrive the following day for the ball. To such persuasions, Mary merely laughed and would retire before she could hear another word on her behalf, and would not even allow William to enter her room, for fear he, too, might attempt to convince her otherwise.

The night of the ball presented itself rapidly amidst all of the tasks that had to be performed days prior to the event. Mary had slipped on her sapphire blue gown, and as she gazed in the mirror, she saw the change in her. Her face still held the same homely features that had deemed her undesirable so far, and yet within these same characteristics, she noticed more how the attributes she always thought satisfactory actually appeared quite handsomely. Her time at Pemberley had taught her that by merely keeping her hair down, cascading down her back, she could look far more handsome than she would with it up. Her hair had become her primary beauty, and Mary grew pleased with how she had grown it out, despite Mrs. Bennet's protests at first. With it down, the darkness of her hair brought out the satin color of her skin, which allowed for bright cheeks and lips to contrast with its fairness. She remained now no more beautiful than her sisters, but for herself, the improvement caused her to smile at her reflection.

"I suppose I should take satisfaction in my slight augmentation of my appearance," Mary remarked, pleased at how the dress still did her much justice and she would likely be noticed for it, before eyes were laid upon her plain face. "Perhaps I shall not be so much a disappointment as one would initially think."

As she walked towards the ballroom, she caught glimpses of her reflections in glass cabinets and such as she passed through halls. Each time she came to pass and saw herself, the smile upon her face widened, until she felt at the pinnacle of self-satisfaction. However, such moments of joy rarely last for long, and as she gazed below at the merriment that was occurring down one more hall after she would descend the stairs, she found herself hesitating before running away back towards her room.

_How could it be that I find myself in such circumstances? That I should end up within the household of a man who had promised me the life I had been striving for, that mama had been striving for, since I had been born? This was a man to which I had felt such injury towards, and though I have supposedly forgiven his grievances, it does appear that I am at an awkward disposition to allow myself to be entirely at his disposal. For that IS where I shall be, surely, if ever I do come within the acquaintance of a man at Chamberlain Hall who does not slight me as Edward Pendleton has but chooses to keep to his promise and marry me. However could I allow myself to be placed here, where I should desire to be anywhere else? I know not another living soul who might choose to reside within the home of a man who might have been her husband at one point of her life, had he not been so cruel in his actions. Does this man know so little of me, this man who might have married me instead of my sister, to choose to provide me with happiness by throwing a ball in my favor? What ridiculous nonsense, considering no ball can possibly provide me with such, and now, cast in the attire from my previous ball and at the house of the man with which this gown had first enchanted…… can I truly be so foolish as to even provide myself with such pain by placing myself within this current situation? It does appear as if I forget of myself as well, for would I have so easily found myself within the grasp of my ridiculous sister and a husband that might have been my own, had I thought more deeply of the situation and realized the atrocity of it? It is true what Georgiana has realized for myself, as has William, that I desire to undergo new things, but this is most certainly not the means in which to provide me with such an opportunity._

"Mary?" William's knocking did not fade as minutes past where she did not reply. "My Lord, Mary, I know you are here! I have already checked the library and other such places where books might be found, and this is all that remains. Do come out!"

"William, I cannot go down there." Mary replied, not moving from where she sat at her writing desk. "I care not to meet any man to whom Edward thinks might be suitable for me. I cannot believe that I should allow myself to even come here, after all that he has done towards me. I have been so very foolish…"

"Foolish? Mary, you are the last person to whom has the reason to call yourself…"

"I was never one to be so emotional, but I feel as if it has caught up with me at last." Mary responded. "It does appear as if I shall be tossed in front of every man this side of the world before I die. Can I not just find one? That is all I ask for… not numerous suitors, nor a triangle to which I have men fighting on my behalf, but just a single man to whom might enjoy my presence not because I had someone with connections to him who thrust me towards him enough times that he grew used to me being beside him, but one who chose to seek me out, so that I might be there alongside him."

"It is what every person hopes for, you know."

"And am I so very different that I might not possess similar sentiments?"

"Not at all," William shook his head, even though Mary could not see him when a door separated them both. "But, Mary, perhaps you might think of such things when you do not have others waiting for your presence? I do not say this to seem callous to what you are feeling, but much preparations were done so that you might meet this man to whom my master desires that you become acquainted with."

"I suppose I might brood upon such thoughts at a better time," Mary agreed and opened the door. "I might pretend to wish to be here, and that this is what I desire that I should do. I have spent eighteen years perfecting such an act, first for mama's sake, and now for Edward's. Perhaps I should pursue theatre at some point of my life?"

"Whatever it may be that you choose to indulge yourself in, Mary, I am most certain that you shall succeed."

* * *

Her arrival at the ball went unnoticed for some time, and Mary Bennet placed herself upon a chair as she waited young couples dance past her. Across the room, she could see her sister enthralled with her new husband, smiling widely as any young bride and, devoid of her usual smugness while in Mary's presence, she could not deny that her sister truly was enraptured by Edward Pendleton. It was upon the following dance that she turned from where she watched her sister to find a man standing before her.

He wore a starched outfit of the same dark blue, and it struck her as odd that any other person might have found material of the same tone as her own. Though of a thinner physique than most men, he was rather tall, and she could see that he would tower above her if she chose to stand. Dark hair was parted in a polished fashion, and he wore thin rimmed spectacles that rested upon a long, aristocratic nose.

"Might I be indulged in your company for a bit, Miss?" he inquired, bowing as he held out a hand.

"Mary!" out of the corner of her eye, she could see Edward and Mary skipping over. "It does appear as if you have already met Mr. Richardson."

"I was just about to introduce myself, Edward." He informed. "As you have heard, I am Thomas Richardson of East Yorkshire as well. I grew up with Edward here."

"He is a scholar of literature," Edward grinned. "I do think, therefore, you have much to discuss with my dear friend in that regards. He is surely to possess the same literary appetite as your own."

"Oh, you are sure to have something in common!" Kitty Bennet announced happily.

"I suppose I should introduce myself," Mary told Mr. Richardson when they had moved away to dance. "I am Mary Bennet. My sister has recently wed Edward Pendleton, and he has been generous enough to invite me for some duration of time to reside within his estate here at Chamberlain Hall."

"You are most fortune," Mr. Richardson responded. "But, I do suppose Edward was always very hospitable. He is very much the gentleman. Always was."

"I suppose."

"Do you not agree?"

"He is a gentleman, in the broad sense." Mary answered. "However, I know not how I might think of a man who promises me that he intends to marry me, if only I would wait for him to return, and I wait to find he has decided to marry my sister instead during my absence."

"Pardon me, but that does not sound like Edward."

"Oh, but it is…" Mary did not hesitate to explain despite her companion's uncomfortable disposition. "I might not have had a thought towards the man, had he not first decided to declare his intentions to me before he departed. Surely presenting me with such false hope is far from the acts of a gentleman. And then, the passionate love he was so sure of before was so easily eradicated upon the insistence of Lady Catherine De Bourgh that he marry my sister. He had known her less than he had known me, but he chose my sister merely because it was the easiest decision with which he might partake in."

"It does appear as if you have much ill feelings towards my friend," Mr. Richardson noted, and he kept a further distance from her after her tirade. "Might I inquireif such sentiments do exist, why it is you are residing within his home so willingly?"

"If I may be perfectly candid with you, it is not with him that I am entirely so infuriated with." Mary sighed. "In actuality, it is probably a lifetime of frustrations and exasperations that I now speak of with you. Edward is not so terrible, I am sure, but life does appear so very hopeless when such incidents such as this seem to occur far too often. And now it does appear as if I have ruined yet again another possible suitor by so carelessly rambling on about such nonsense. If you may excuse me, Mr. Richardson, I do feel as if I have caused myself enough mortification for one night."

Half through the dance, Mary marched off to leave Mr. Richardson standing amidst the dancers. He did not move, but watched her disappear into the crowd. His own logistics told him that his companion in this dance had been most emotionally unstable, and in his short acquaintance with her, such an attribute could not possibly be deemed desirable, and yet he found himself smiling despite all her previous ridiculousness, remembering how enchanting her eyes had been, as if he could see the very thoughts that collided with one another within her head.

**4 **

Jonathan Cadaver had heard news of a ball at Chamberlain Hall and, though he was not one who initially found much joy in attending such events, he did recall that his brother's friend from a few days prior was residing at that particular location. He did remember his brother's warning not to interfere with her, and he was not one to indulge himself in relations that might threaten consequences, but he had not been in the acquaintance of an affable woman for far too long for him to bypass such an opportunity.

He was not formally invited, nor did he possess any clothes appropriate for such an event, but he knew of his connections and he knew that would be sufficient enough to provide him with what he was in need of acquiring for the night. His brother was found by the kitchen, where a wagon was still unloading cargo for some of the dishes for the evening. William was explaining to a group of younger boys the task at hand, and at the sight of his brother approaching, he sent them off.

"John?" William pulled him aside. "Whatever are you doing here? If my master were to…"

"It is a big enough place, brother," Jonathan shrugged. "What are the chances that he be at this particular part of the house when there are hundreds of other rooms where he might possibly be? Probability is in my favor, dear brother."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I have heard there is a ball tonight…"

"Jonathan, there are only certain people who are invited."

"Perhaps I might be…"

"Do you understand the consequences that might befall me, if you were detected?"

"I promise to be an exemplary display of the epitome of a gentleman," Jonathan bowed. "It is not often that I might ask of such favors from you, brother. Please indulge an aging man some of his last requests?"

"And if I allowed you to enter the ball?" William inquired. "Whatever might you wear? You would certainly be noticed if you wore… whatever you might call that."

"It is not so bad as it looks," Jonathan looked down at his shirt. "I have had many a lady not disagree with the attire…"

"I am sure," William remarked and then looked up abruptly. "This sudden interest to attend the ball at Chamberlain Hall is not on account of the fact you recall that Mary Bennet is visiting here? John… do tell me that is not why you have come."

"She is not like the other girls, Will…"

"Oh, I am sure…"

"She is different."

"Different enough for you not to lay a finger upon her," William warned. "I shall not have her further hurt from another man who dares to lead her in such an insolent manner."

"This is your brother you speak of."

"And so I know you better than all else," William retorted. "Do not try to evade what you know so well to be true. If I permit you to go, you must promise me…"

"I shall never place any harm upon your precious Miss Bennet," Jonathan promised. "My, perhaps you should go and marry the woman so you need not worry over her any longer."

"I am engaged, brother, and not to her."

"This is a surprise," Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "I was so certain that you were in love with her."

"Oh, Mary is nothing but a friend."

"A friend?" Jonathan seemed skeptical. "I have many friends, brother, with women."

"Not that kind of friend!"

"And you do not love her?"

"I am in love with another, John." William told him. "At first, when I had met her, I thought I might love her, but she has grown as dear to me as a sister. I feel responsible towards her well-being as if I may well be a sibling and I care not if that means I must prevent her from developing close relationships with men like my own brother."

"My, we are so very different, brother." Jonathan remarked with a laugh. "Your attachment is quite inspiring, but I am still in need of attire for the night."

"I shall allow you to borrow a suit of my master's," William winced as he thought of it. "I shall choose one he has not worn as of late and is likely to toss out next he clears out his wardrobe."

"I am sure the man cannot keep track of all he owns," Jonathan patted his brother on the back. "Despite it all, I do enjoy your company, Will. You have been a good brother."

"And you," William smiled. "Though I do wish you had chosen to live a more reputable and respectable life."

"I do not think I have been respectable once in my life," Jonathan replied. "A lot of good primogeniture does me, brother, when you shall fare better than I."

"But can that be blamed on our birthright, John?"

"No, I take the entirety of the blame."

"At least you realize the errors of your ways."

"I embrace it," Jonathan told him. "I have learned that life does provide a more exciting journey when you come to the acceptance of such personal defaults. We are all prone to some habit or another. I merely have more so than all else."

Jonathan Cadaver had adorned himself in a suit of light blue that William had found neglected in a dark corner amongst Edward Pendleton's attire. The same hue as his eyes, it did appeared as if he had purchased it on his own behalf, and the drab piece of fabric appeared new as he strolled about the vicinity. He had kept his word and did not make advances on any ladies within the room, though he felt many an eye upon him and a few blushes and smiles as he passed. However, tonight, he had only one lady in mind.

He first spotted her amongst a group of people conversing. A man stood beside her in a suit that matched her own, and Jonathan Cadaver smirked at how the two matched so perfectly and wondered if such an outfit was planned prior.

"My, the Missy did not appear as one who would take so much care in matching her partner for the evening…" Jonathan commented to himself, sitting against a wall and observing them.

When he saw her walk away from the man, he found himself smirking at the look upon her face. He knew women enough to recognize that the expression was one that demanded she be left alone, but he followed her nonetheless as she walked through the crowd and exited through the front door.

In the moonlight, he could see it lighting up her sleek hair. Fully exposed without a hood, he noticed how luscious it was, and from behind she appeared as royalty in a silk dress the color of the night sky and her hair shimmering from the twilight. Mary continued with her hurried pace until she reached the first large tree, to which she leaned against it and slid to the floor. Her head propped atop her knees, Jonathan Cadaver felt himself holding his breath.

"Mary Bennet…" he had not first intended to allow the words to surpass his lips.

"Who's there?" Mary's head came up and she saw the dark figure nearby. "Show yourself!"

"Was your partner for the evening not up to par?" Jonathan inquired, smiling as he approached her. "His suit a shade too light to match exactly with your own gown?"

"We did not plan to match, if that is what you intend to imply with those words." Mary responded in an irritated tone. "I had never met the man before this night."

"It seems as if I face a new woman than that which I had met before."

"That is because that is me when I allow myself to be careless," Mary frowned. "It is the careless one who forgives too easily and then chooses to live with the very man who hurt her by marrying her sister. It is the careless one who has no where to go, for I shall forever be juggled between my married sister's homes in hopes some man might fall for me or reside at home with mama, which is just as worse, for she does not mind half so much as my sisters in making me ridiculous."

"You certainly do not restrain your troubles, even from strangers…"

"I have come, up to this point, to stop caring about such complaisance…" Mary shifted and placed her head upon her knees once more. "When I was not so blithe in how I acted, I progressed no more than I do now, being preposterous. I am so utterly confused with it all."

"How old are you, Miss Mary?"

"Eighteen."

"And you are worrying about getting married?" Jonathan chuckled. "It seems that is all that people wish for women to think of, since the day they are born. Marriage. It is as if life will never begin for a person until they are safely within wedlock."

"My sentiments exactly."

"I do reassure you there is more to life," Jonathan went on when she did not respond. "Perhaps it does not appear so reassuring, coming from my lips, but I have seen things no other person may. Experienced things that no other may boast of undertaking, and I do not think me to be married at any time close to this moment."

"You need not have to convince me," Mary told him, though her eyes did not waver from where they were fixated into the distance. "I never believed such a thought. It is merely all that society makes a person believe they are."

"William is right," Jonathan remarked. "You are a very intelligible lady, Miss Mary."

"I do hope that I may boast of at least that, for it is all that I have to recommend myself."

"Do you wish to tell me you think that to be your only satisfactory attribute?"

"As far as I am concerned," Mary stood. "It has been quite therapeutic to converse with you thus far, Mr. Cadaver, but I think I shall retire for the night. Balls drain me so very much."

"Please," Jonathan reached out and placed a hand upon her arm as she passed him. "Call me John. Jonathan if you wish to still be a tad bit formal, but I shall leave that choice entirely for you…"

"Why are you…" Mary looked down at his hand, which he did not remove.

"Mary!" looking up, Mary saw a small group of people running across the field.

"Oh my Lord," Mary breathed. "However do I find myself in such predicaments?"

"Mary, I was worried… where have you…" Edward stopped his words when he saw Jonathan standing beside her. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh, my," Mary's sister placed a hand above her mouth to conceal her giggles. "It does appear as if Mary has a _lover_!"

"Do not be ridiculous, Kitty." Mary retorted. "I barely know the man."

"Then whyever are you out in the middle of the night with a stranger?" Edward interrogated. "Whyever did you abandon Mr. Richardson here, when the entire ball was prepared so you might become better acquainted with him?"

"If you were to acquaint me with a man, Edward, a ball is a perfectly irrational way with which to gain acquaintance!"

"Oh, here she goes again…" Kitty rolled her eyes. "I told you, Edward, that she would be nothing but…"

"Allow me to finish, I am not your dear Lydia for you to finish my statements!" Mary snapped. "A small gathering would have provided better opportunity for acquaintances, Edward. It would be better if conversation instead of dancing were the order of the day."

"She was always so ridiculous, Edward…" Kitty placed a hand upon her husband. "I told you that we should not have had her stay. Perhaps later in our marriage, when we have more tolerance for such nonsense…"

"Oh, now it is_ I_ who am the ridiculous one?" Mary laughed. "My, Kitty, what a surprise it is to hear such words from you, when upon first inclinations, one is to suspect you to be nothing but a mindless puppet of Lydia."

"Do not compare me to her, Mary!" Kitty argued. "I am not Lydia!"

"Oh, but you are just as ridiculous… with your head filled with similar nonsense and carelessness, as if life were so very simple and…"

"I have had enough of my comparisons with her!" Kitty covered her ears. "Enough! Can I not escape it? Enough of comparing me to someone that I am not! I shall never be Lydia, regardless of what it may be that you say, Mary. Regardless of what all may say. I am my own person. I shall never be like any of you, and none of you shall ever be like me, so why must we constantly juxtapose and weigh who might be the better of the batch and can we not just escape it all and be happy!"

"What a mouthful…" Jonathan muttered in a remark to himself that Mary overheard.

"What an acute observation, Mr. Cadaver."

"Cadaver?" Edward's attention now turned towards Jonathan. "Is that any relation to William Cadaver?"

"Not at all, sir," Mary felt her face go blank at how well Jonathan was able to tell falsehoods. "I have never heard of such a person before."

"Really…"

"John!" Mary's jaw dropped when she saw William emerge from the house yelling, his arms flailing as he ran over. "I told you! I told you to stay out of trouble, and here you are, causing a scene, and…"

It was a ridiculous situation entirely for every person within the group. Mary Bennet could not be more dumbfounded and speechless in all she had beheld in her sister's first individualistic declaration and the discomfited circumstances that Jonathan, and now, William Cadaver had placed themselves into. Edward Pendleton had never appeared so infuriated, with his face red and his eyebrows arched together as the realization of the scene before him settled in. Catherine Bennet stood with a hand over her mouth, no longer to cover a smug grin or giggle, but to compress the cries which she fought to contain within her. Poor Mr. Richardson stood within the background, observing it all and with a look of sheer bewilderment upon his face, as if he had never seen a more undomesticated sight before throughout the longevity of his life.

"So you have no relations with this man, sir?" Edward inquired from Jonathan again.

"Sir, please forgive my brother…" William bowed.

"It appears your own kin told me the answer I needed."

"He was foolish, I know, but it is not entirely his own fault. He… he is unruly and uncultivated and knows not the manners of civilized life. He…"

"It is not his manners that I question tonight, William." Edward interrupted, bearing down harshly upon the young boy who had tried so desperately to assist his brother's position. "It is how this man, who is so obviously unrefined, managed to enter Chamberlain Hall's ball when I had servants who guarded the entrance to prevent scoundrels like him from entering and intruding."

"Sir, if I may explain…" Jonathan stepped forward.

"You had your opportunity to explain!" Edward snapped in an irritable manner that had even Jonathan stepping back. "William, explain to me how such a scandal occurred."

"Sir, I did not think any wrong might occur from permitting him to enter." William lowered his head. "He had given me his word, and I had trusted him."

"I can see this gent is a true man of his word…"

"Please, this is my brother you speak of." William begged. "I cannot explain to you how he found himself at this present location outside of your humble dwellings, but he was of the highest behavior while he was indoors, even you must note. He did not cause scandal with any of the women, although I am most certain he had opportunity."

"Of course I had opportunity," Jonathan grinned.

"Brother, please…" William shot him a look of warning. "He was perfectly amiable to those he found within his acquaintance during the evening, and he has maintained impeccable cleanliness in regards to your overcoat and…"

"My what?"

"Your…" William shrunk at the realization of what he had allowed himself to reveal. "Sir, I..."

"Not only did you permit a stranger into my home, William, but you stole for him as well? From my own belongings?" Edward shook his head. "William, I cannot afford to have such carelessness residing within someone with whom I have placed so much responsibility. So much of the maintenance of my estate is in your hands, and this evening has displayed that you are lackadaisical in your duties. I simply cannot permit this to occur, especially within my own household staff."

"Sir, please…"

"I am sorry, William, but your services are no longer required…"

"But…"

"That is enough, William." Edward ordered. "I do hope you are able to obey this last demand of mine and remain silent, for I am through with you."

"Edward!" Mary called as he departed, his arm around his crying wife. "Edward, I am speaking to you!"

"You are free to leave as well, Mary." Edward called back. "Your stay at Chamberlain Hall has expired."

As a child who has followed a trail in the darkness guided only by a small candle that he was provided with, William Cadaver fell to the ground and wept, knowing well that his light had distinguished and he was left abandoned in the darkness without another way with which to guide him to the point that he was currently heading. Jonathan bent down to comfort his brother, and Mary stood, first looking down at the Cadaver brothers and then at the retreating figure of Edward Pendleton and his wife. Tonight had revealed much to her on the character of Edward Pendleton, and for the first time, she was relieved in his choice of marrying Kitty over her. Never might a man of such callousness, lack of sympathy, and of such a weak disposition that he might not even control his temper provide her with the happiness that might possibly last a lifetime. This chapter of her life had reached an end, and Mary Bennet, despite the dejection of this moment, felt truly free from her previous sentiments of the evening.

As this all occurred, Mr. Richardson stood with his mouth still gaped wide. His eyes shifted from the two men on the ground and the woman who had disregarded him the entire evening. Unsure of why he had not done so before, Mr. Richardson turned and returned towards Chamberlain Hall to join the ball once more.

* * *

**AN:**In case I get in trouble for this, Ihad Mary quote a statement that she had said in the film adaptation of Jane Austen'smasterpiece staring KieraKnightley. Just thought I might clear that up for you, if the statement sounded vaguelyfamiliar. Now, dowhat you do best and tell me what you think... 


	13. Volume II Part 3

AN: So I have had spare time to do as I please as of late, and I have entered a craze where I have continued this story nonstop. So, yes… another post… one each day these past few days. Unfortunately, I cannot update tomorrow since I shall be out the entirety of the day, but I do think that my dedication to updating at such a rapid pace should be rewarded, at least, with what you have thought of the progress of this story so far. Thank you again to my reviewers. This time or next, I shall provide you with much kudos for your efforts and kindness. This task is far more easier with lovely fans there.

* * *

**5 **

"Miss Bennet?" the servant at the entrance of the ball looked at the list within his hand and back up at her. "You are not on the list."

"I have been residing at Chamberlain hall for almost a sennight," Mary told the servant. "This ball might not have occurred at all, had I not been here."

"Oh, you are _that_ lady…" the servant responded. "I do apologize, Miss, but my master has ordered that you are no longer welcome within his household."

"I do not care to spent more than a minute here, I can assure you." Mary answered, growing peeved. "But I cannot depart until I have gathered my belongings. That is all I ask. You may send up a servant if you would like, but I would like to insure that all of my belongings are packed. Please…"

"Alright, I shall let you pass." The servant stepped out of the way. "But do be quick, for I should not desire that my master find out of your presence within his home."

Within her old room, Mary Bennet cared not if she had abandoned all of her clothes, for she came only for her journal, but she hurriedly assembled all that she owned, lest the servant at the entrance question why she entered, if only to collect a small book.

"Mary?" as she reached to retrieve her last gown within her bag, she looked over her shoulder and saw Edward in the doorway. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"I came to admire the view one last time, can you not see that is what I do bent over in this room?" Mary responded, closing her bag and frowning. "I know not why you ask the most ridiculous questions, Edward, but I am through with it. Perhaps now you may move from where you obstruct my exit so I may leave as we both desire that I do."

"Honestly Mary, there is no need to be rude."

"You are the most infuriating person I have ever had within my acquaintance!" Mary declared when she heard his remark."Whatever possesses you to say such a thing to me? Do not chastise on the proper behavior in regards to interacting with others, when you are so inept of maintaining a respectable behavior when fraternizing with another."

"You cannot blame me for this evening's display." Edward answered coolly, though Mary saw he stood stiffly. "When there is a servant out of line, you must do what is necessary. You must think of where I stood in such a position and question whether you might have done anything different from that which I handled the situation."

"Oh, I most certainly can imagine, and I would not have acted like such an asinine, insensitive brute!" Mary snapped back. "If anything must be done in supposing what another might have done in similar circumstances, it if you, Edward Pendleton, who should think of what you might have done differently if in the position of William Cadaver. Would you not have trusted your own brother to keep to his word, and to allow him a bit of joy, when you see him once every half decade or so? And Jonathan Cadaver _was_ true to word, and perhaps if you were not so blinded by your own ignorance, you might have come to discover that there was no scandal that was performed this evening but those injuries that _you_ had undertaken _yourself_!

"I had left your Mr. Richardson for I hate balls. Yes, Edward, I detest anything relatively similar to balls, and it does provide me much bemusement how you might have not known that for yourself when you can so passionately declare a month ago that you were so in love with me. Of course I know that was nothing but falsehoods, every single word, for you do not know me at all. No, if you knew me in the slightest degree, you would know that above all else, I despise attending events like these. But what I loathe all the more than these inane celebrations of dancing and such are those few people that I find myself in acquaintance with who believe themselves to be so very superior and grandiose than all that surround them that they are incapable of ever causing error.

"You think you are such an immaculate display of a gentleman, Edward Pendleton, but I have not seen an ounce of respectability within your being for quite some time. I do doubt if ever I did see anything at all of a gentlemen within you. William is a faithful, compliant worker and when we first met, he praised your benevolence, but tonight, accumulated with all the events that followed up to this moment, has taught me that William could not be so far from wrong. You are not benevolent, nor do you have a good will. You are so weak, you cannot even stick to your own words that you promise a woman less than a fortnight ago, and yet _you_ have the audacity to mock Jonathan Cadaver's ability to stay true to _his_ word! What kind of person do you think you are, to reprimand others when you are so much of a hypocrite yourself?"

"It does appear as if you have the portrait of myself painted quite clearly," Edward remarked, a wanly pallor back upon his face.

"Indeed, I do." Mary took advantage of Edward's failing health in front of her, and pushed him out of the way. "It does appear as there is nothing left to be said between us, Edward, not that there ever was much to say in regards to you and me. Fare well and enjoy your life with Kitty. I am most certain now that you shall make yourselves perfectly wonderful companions, for you both are as utterly ridiculous as each other. May you soak up one another's _glory_ and superiority until you leave for the grave."

In her last words to Edward Pendleton, Mary Bennet departed with a smile of satisfaction upon her face. The feelings that flowed through her veins of anger now relieved her, for she did feel as if she had provided her brother-in-law with the necessary departing words. Sentiments of freedom that she had experienced when Edward had first marched away into Chamberlain Hall returned, and Mary found herself curtsying to the servant at the entrance with a smile, swinging her bag over her arm and pressing her journal to her chest.

"It does appear as if Mary Bennet has conquered the world!" William laughed as he sat in front of a carriage, with Jonathan holding the reigns. "I did not think that gathering up a few gowns could be so very invigorating for the spirit, but what do I know of ladies?"

"I have spoken to Edward Pendleton," Mary told him as she stepped down the stairs and walked towards the carriage. "And if I may speculate on his current health, I dare say the man shall remain in bed for a month, for inability to think of anything else but what an absolute ass he has been."

"My word, spoken like a true woman!" Jonathan applauded her, and William joined in.

"Might in inquire as to how we have accumulated a horse and carriage during my absence?" William pulled her up between him and his brother. "I was so sure that we would be required to walk back to Hertfordshire."

"Let us just say that one of these guests tonight shall have to share a carriage with a friend," Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. "I am sure one less carriage means nothing to them all…"

"You do not mean to tell me that you stole another's carriage as I provided Edward Pendleton with the tirade of his life?" Mary looked at their mischievous faces and laughed. "I suppose one more misdeed for the evening can cause no more injury."

"About time she realized it," Jonathan remarked.

"You are such a terrible influence, Jonathan Cadaver." Mary gave the man a swat on his arm. "William, do promise never to follow after you brother."

"It does appear that trouble follows him, wherever he decides to go." William commented, and sunk back into brooding. "I know not how I shall describe to Patricia my current situation. It does appear as if I am in a large predicament."

"Do not worry," Mary comforted. "My papa shall be most willing to hire you, if you so desire, and if that fails for you, Georgiana might convince her brother to hire you. Pemberley is a far more pleasant place than Chamberlain Hall anyways, and provides far more stimulating company."

"My, it all occurred to fast," William laughed at this. "I fear I did not have any time at all to think of how I should best handle the situation."

"Perhaps you should have a try of your own advice?" Mary suggested in a teasing manner. "It does appear as if life has been far more interesting since I have undertaken your words of recommendation. It does appear as if I am a new person, after all."

"You are such a pleasant companion, Mary." William complimented. "I do not think I have ever met another who I have enjoyed so fully to be with. You do make even such an event as my current unemployment seem pleasurable."

"I have never said so many insults in one sitting," Mary giggled. "I am most certain that my outburst at Edward has surely made up for holding my tongue for eighteen years in all this nonsense."

"I do wish I had seen him as you provided him with a fume to reckon with," William shook with laughter. "I do not think he has ever been talked to before in such a manner in his life!"

"I would not doubt it, for he does bask in much vanity and arrogance." Mary remarked. "It does me wonders to come to the realization that he is entirely the most compatible match for Kitty. He is just as absurd as Lydia."

"And who is Lydia?" William inquired.

"The youngest of my sisters," Mary informed. "She resides in New Castle with a Lieutenant… I think him to be that but I am not quite so sure… Wickham. You can imagine the scandal that arose when she eloped. My, if you honestly think of my family, I do doubt if you have ever heard of more scandal. It does make one wonder why mama goes to so much worry of our reputation, when we all do such a fine job of staining it. I do believe there is nothing left that might occur to soil our name."

"Oh, you are not half so bad as you think your family to be." Jonathan chuckled. "You speak to the man who placed his brother in unemployment and who has stolen a carriage less than an hour ago."

"Then it does appear as if I have quite the complementary company surrounding me," Mary noted. "I have never felt more free in my life!"

"Freedom? Is that what you call it?" Jonathan shrugged. "I think of it as being homeless without the slightest idea as to where I shall go next with my life."

"But do you not have a ship to return to, John?" William asked.

"I do, I suppose, being the first mate and all, but I was getting a bit weary of that." Jonathan admitted. "Perhaps I shall look for work in London, or a new ship where I might offer my services."

"Have you run out of women already in East Yorkshire?"

"That too, if you require me to tell the truth."

"My, you are most certainly very open with your promiscuity, Mr. Cadaver."

"Please, John shall suffice." Jonathan flashed Mary a smile. "I am not so important that I deserve to be spoken to so formally. Casualty is the best, for when you speak too eloquently, it does seem to be as if you speak a foreign language."

"Perhaps I shall provide you with some tutelage… Jonathan." Mary told him. "It does appear as if you might be in desperation for some knowledge."

"Really?" he turned to face her. "And what might you know of that I do not?"

"_I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use_." Mary grinned. "Galileo Galilei said that. Do you not think it true?"

"My, I did not think I should be getting such a lesson." Jonathan remarked with a laugh. "What else do you have stored within that mind of yours, Miss Mary? It does appear you must have more, if you can quote directly the thoughts of brilliant minds of the past."

"_'Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule/I am alone forbid to play the fool/To follow through the Groves a wand'ring Muse/And fain'd Ideas's for my pleasures chuse./Why shou'd it in my Pen be held a fault/Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought_?" Mary raised an eyebrow at Jonathan before she continued. _"...Each Woman has her weaknesse;mine indeed/Is still to write tho' hopelesse to succeed./Nor to the Men is this so easy found;/Ev'n in most Works with which the Witts abound."_

"A bit on the satirical side, do you not think so?"

"It is genius," Mary replied simply. "Anne Finch has a way with words in which women of this time are in desperate need to embrace."

"It does appear such a waste to have such a mind dallying at home," Jonathan observed. "Do tell me you do not intend to spend your days locked up, unable to share your own genius…"

"Genius?" Mary laughed. "Literature is a mere passion of mine. You cannot think me to be of such a brilliant mind as those who I quote, for any person might memorize something. It is those who write or say something that is of worth to memorize who are the true geniuses."

"This man, Pendleton, he is a fool." Jonathan told her. "I do doubt that your sister is half so clever or sharp as you, and she was not so easy for the eyes…"

"Do you not intend to hint that I am a beauty?" Mary shook her head. "No need to jest, Jonathan Cadaver. Eighteen years of life has taught me that much of myself."

"You do underestimate yourself, Miss Mary." Jonathan responded, his tone serious. "Perhaps you are not the beauty that society would wish you to be, but any mind can see the enchantment your appearance plays upon them. Yes, I do believe it those rare beauties that you stumble across, who are singular from what is to be expected of attractiveness, are those who become the true epitomes of the exquisite in the end."

* * *

**6**

"Oh Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet pounded upon the study door. "Do open your door, for I wish to speak with you!"

"Whatever can be left to say, my dear?" Mr. Bennet acquired, not moving from where he sat. "It does appear as if you have said it all."

"How can you tease me so?" Mrs. Bennet cried. "There is much that needs to be discussed. Our daughter… she refuses to depart from her room, and she does not wish to speak of her visit to Chamberlain Hall. How can she be so cruel to her poor mama, to leave her so in the dark on her affairs?"

"Perhaps Mary is in need of rest?" Mr. Bennet suggested. "It was a long journey to Hertfordshire."

"What rubbish, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet continued her pounding. "I know not how my nerves survive such trials, when my family provides me with no relief! However might I rest at last with a daughter still unwed and a husband who chooses not to cooperate? Mr. Bennet! Do you not hear a word I have spoken?"

"I am perfectly able to hear you, my dear." Mr. Bennet chuckled but proceeded with his reading. "Do follow your daughter's suit and rest for the remainder of the day."

"And a man escorted her home!" Mrs. Bennet went on to explain. "She would not say a word about it, think of it- my own daughter, unable to speak to her dear mama!"

"I should not think twice of Mary's affairs. It does appear as if she has a steady grip upon them herself."

"A steady grip? However can you think so? The girl is still unmarried! Had she been directing herself so steadily, she would be within wedlock already!"

"Perhaps this is a man who might be courting her?" Mr. Bennet suggested. "Do you not think so?"

"Of course I think so!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "However could a thought not pass through my mind, Mr. Bennet? But I know not how I shall find out, if my own daughter is so unwilling to discuss the matter with me. Can you not abandon your study for a moment to talk some sense into her?"

"Mary does appear to have much sense about her. I do not think there is another word I might say to make her more sensible than she is already."

"Oh, you make me so tiresome!" Mrs. Bennet tired of conversing and went back to knocking rapidly. "Can you not speak with her? I shall not depart from where I stand until you do so."

"It is your hands which must knock continuously, my dear, for all I must do is turn a page." Mr. Bennet chuckled. "If you so desire to undertake such a strenuous task, then you are free to do so."

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet shook her head. "Can you just talk to her? Reason with her. I was never one to reason with a person so well, and it is all of the language that she knows."

"If it shall provide me with some peace," Mr. Bennet muttered and opened the door. "I do hope that you are happy, my dear, for I had just to reach the climax of my novel."

"Is not your daughter and this family more important?"

"Of course, but I have faith that it shall all work out."

"How can you possibly think so?" Mrs. Bennet hollered as he ascended the stairs. "We have yet our last daughter to be married, and she shall be the hardest!"

"Mary.."

"The door is unlocked, papa. I heard that you were to come to speak reasonably with me." Mary kept her back to the door as she sat upon the window seat.

"Your mother does not do this to vex you," Mr. Bennet stood behind her, and stared out the window as she did. "She merely wants what is best for you."

"Perhaps you mean to tell me she wants what is best for her… for the family." Mary responded. "She shall never be satisfied until I am married, even if it be with the most unsuitable person."

"I heard that a gentleman escorted you home today," Mr. Bennet smiled and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Does this gentleman have any intentions in regards to…"

"You need not worry of Jonathan, papa." Mary interrupted. "He could not be more incompatible with me. I am still in the same predicament as ever. Nothing has changed."

"Nothing?" Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. "I am not one to appear active in the affairs of my family, but I am able to observe when my children grow up."

"Oh papa…" Mary closed her eyes.

"It does seem as if I have not seen my child of a daughter since she returned from Pemberley," Mr. Bennet informed. "In all her sensibility and logic, she was still as puerile as her younger sister initially, but I can see that time has matured her into an independent woman of the highest intellect."

"You need not say such things, papa." Mary uttered when she felt tears pierce her eyes. "You never had to speak such words with Jane or Elizabeth…"

"Jane and Elizabeth were in no need to hear such sentiments from me," Mr. Bennet replied. "They grew up perfectly fine without my interference…"

"…have I gotten so astray, papa, that you feel the need to impede upon whatever progress I attempt to make?" Mary frowned. "I am sorry I am not my sisters. Perhaps then you should have your peace, and mama's nerves may survive after all."

"You forget of what I say," Mr. Bennet told her. "I think you perfectly apt to place your life within order. You have developed into the kind of lady that I had hoped for all of my daughters to be."

"Have Jane and Elizabeth done so as well, but of course they must..."

"Let us not speak of the others," Mr. Bennet placed his other hand upon her shoulder. "This is not to compare you with your sisters, Mary. This is to talk of you, the individual."

"Even Kitty and Lydia?" Mary asked. "Has Lydia truly grown to be a respectable lady?"

"We shall save such a subject for another day," his tone caused Mary to smile slightly. "But, before I depart, might I note that I saw from my study the man that escorted you home, and I had never seen you more happy. You are not so pedantic in your manner as you were before, and it does please me to see you letting loose at last."

"I never think I have heard more words from you at once, papa." Mary commented and found herself laughing again and turned to embrace Mr. Bennet. "Thank you, papa."

"I thought that, perhaps you deserved more words of encouragement, and I do doubt that your mother shall provide you with any, once she is provided the opportunity to speak with you." Mr. Bennet released her. "But, if I may suggest, you find the man of your worth soon, Mary, for I do not think your mother shall live another year if she must wait."

"I do suspect if she shall last the day."

"A very acute observation," Mr. Bennet remarked.

"I suppose that is what I have inherited from my papa." Mary replied, causing Mr. Bennet to chuckle as he walked down the stairs and back into his office, leaving a Mrs. Bennet to remain in the dark again in the affairs of her family.


	14. Volume II Part 4

AN: I realize now that in my last update, I had William mention a Patricia at one point of Chapter 5. Not sure exactly what went through my mind, perhaps the lack of sleep is paying its toll on me, but I had meant Margaret. Much apologies for this. Just thought I should clarify this.

* * *

**7 **

Her arrival at home did not prove to be so void of excitement and companionship, for the following day, Mary received a call from the servants that a guest had arrived on her behalf. Assembling herself, Mary went below to greet the visitor who rested in the parlor. Upon entering, her guest looked up, and Mary Bennet was greeted with the smiling face of Margaret Gallagher, who sat perfectly erect, her hands folded upon her lap.

"My, Mary, you need not appear so surprised by my presence!" Margaret laughed in a manner that might have indicated her relationship with Mary Bennet was one that was extremely close. "Why, my future husband is your dearest friend, I have heard. Can we not get along?"

"Whatever brings you here?" Mary inquired, choosing not to sit beside Margaret and choosing a chair at a small table. "I am not so accustomed to your visits, Margaret, and I know not what intentions you possess in coming here."

"Oh, I am not so vindictive as you might think me to be," Margaret leaned forward to be closer to Mary. "I do think we might be friends, Mary, and I would very much like to be. I come so we might talk, in hopes to rejuvenate our friendship."

"Rejuvenate?" Mary arched an eyebrow. "Margaret, I mean no injury to you when I say this, but we never had a friendship to begin with. In actuality, we never even had a relationship or acquaintance at all."

"Oh, but we shall, in due time!" Margaret piped. "Now, William tells me that his brother escorted you home before he departed. I did catch a glimpse of the man, Mary, and my, he is most certainly a man of an appealing countenance! Do you not think so?"

"I am not one to develop so much enthusiasm for a person, merely by a desirable outward appearance," Mary answered dryly.

"Oh, do not be a bore now!" Margaret teased. "What is your opinion of the man? Is he amiable?"

"He is not presumptuous as many men I have encountered," Mary replied. "And he is quite the animated character, though he does prove to be troublesome at times, but it does not take one of vast intellect to construe that he is a man with good intentions. Yes, Jonathan is a good enough person, despite his silliness and capricious ways."

"My, and you call him Jonathan!" Margaret giggled. "How utterly perfect for you, Mary! Do you think you might be happy married to him?"

"Married?" Mary exclaimed. "Such a thought has never once materialized into my head! Why, Jonathan would not suit me at all. He is far too ridiculous. However could you ask such a ridiculous question?"

"It is not so ridiculous as one might initially think," Margaret disagreed. "At such times as these, Mary, us ladies must always consider the eligible men we find within our acquaintance and ask of ourselves if they are compatible, for any man with whom we have relations with who is not yet wed is a potential husband."

"I do not scrutinize over those men in my acquaintance as if I seek for the best bargain in town," Mary could not hide her disgust at such a thought. "What a horrid thing to do, to look at a person as the good they might provide you in the near future."

"I do fear you think so very little of me," Margaret frowned. "I am not so terrible as you may think, Mary, I do reassure you. Why, I am just a girl who wishes to live and have her share of fun before I must be wed. I am not so selfish to forget of the person and look at them only as some material good that I might acquire. Is it so wrong to desire that I do all that I might possibly can during this life, even if they might be so frivolous and juvenile at times?"

"No, I suppose not." Mary now found herself frowning at herself. "I do apologize, Margaret. I have been harboring such ill feelings as of late, I forget of my manners. I understand completely what you speak of, for in my absence from Hertfordshire, I, too, indulged myself in such blithe merriment."

"You?" Margaret chortled loudly. "My, I am sorry Mary, but I cannot conjure up within my head the image of you in such a display…"

"It is alright," Mary blushed. "I suppose that shall be how all might think of me, considering I was not one to ever let down my hair."

"But I see that you do so now," Margaret ceased with her laughter and smiled. "You know, now that I allow myself this moment to look you over, Mary, it does appear as if you have undergone a change. Yes… I never before noticed your lovely hair, and you have a most beautiful smile, which now I may see, for I do not recall ever seeing a grin from you before. And your eyes do hold a certain something within them that I cannot determine for sure, but it does remind me so of your sister Elizabeth's eyes. Yes, I dare say you have Elizabeth's eyes."

"Elizabeth's eyes? So they are not my own, but my sister's?"

"Oh, I do not say that, but they are so very similar."

"Can they not be my own?"

"Well, of course they are your own eyes! They do not reside elsewhere."

"Of course," Mary did not pursue that segment of the conversation any further. "How is William? Is he adjusting well to his new circumstances?"

"My father takes him to the fields to work today," Margaret explained. "He has had an early start, and shall not be done until it is dark. It is arduous labor, but 'tis the life of a farmer, after all. I am sure he shall adjust. He is a most determined man, I believe. It does make me wonder how lucky I truly am, to stumble across such a person within my life, and then be all the more fortunate to spend the entirety of it with him. I never thought I should be handed such luck!"

"It does appear as if you both are fortunate," Mary was just as shocked at her compliment as Margaret. "I thought, perhaps, this might be some childish fancy, but you have taught me otherwise. I am most certain that you both shall receive eternal happiness with your union."

"And you thought we might not be friends?" Margaret jested. "You have grown more vivacious, and I more serious, it seems. Perhaps we have found a satisfactory medium between the two of us?"

"It does appear as if that be the case in our circumstances," Mary agreed. "And it does provide us much good essentially, since William is a dear friend of mine, and so we shall be in one another's acquaintance throughout our lives."

"And 'tis so wonderful to just all get along, I think." Margaret remarked. "You shall be like the elder sister I never did have, you know. It does get quite dreadfully lonely without siblings, but I am sure you might not understand how utterly lonely it 'tis, with four other sisters and both your parents there throughout your life…"

"Of course I am not inept from feeling the depths of solitude ," Mary responded. "I was never one to be like my sisters. I do feel that being alone amongst a mass of people is the worst sort of isolation that one can possibly feel."

"Certainly that has not been your life, Mary?"

"You need not worry over me," Mary told her. "My life has changed so much since my sisters have departed for married life. I do not think I am the same person, nor are the circumstances that I had grown so accustomed to for eighteen years."

"Well, whatever these circumstances may be now," Margaret began. "I do hope that it all shall work in your favor and that you find happiness, Mary Bennet."

"It is what I hope for as well, of course."

"And I know I do speak for William and myself when I say that you do deserve such merriment in your life. You are so unlike all others that I have ever met."

"I have heard that often enough these days to believe you."

* * *

**8 **

Mary Bennet's morning was spent with Margaret Gallagher who departed at lunch to visit her future husband on his first day of work on the farm. Despite Mrs. Bennet's inquiries again on her daughter's affairs, Mary did not respond and secluded herself within her room, writing in her journal and wondering desperately if ever she would depart from such a place as that which she resided.

It was upon the fourth time that Mrs. Bennet had come knocking upon her daughter's door that a servant sent a leter from the Gallagher household that invited Mary to dine with them that evening. They required her to come around six, and Mrs. Bennet was able to escape into Mary's room when she went to retrieve the invitation, thus forcing Mary to allow the servants to ready her for the evening.

Her hair was piled atop her head in massive curls, much like Elizabeth Bennet's hair upon the Netherfield Ball, and Mrs. Bennet had pressed for her to restrict herself within a corset and wear an under-dress beneath a pink gown of Lydia's that she had left at home for her "poor sisters who might need it" more than she. By the time that the servants returned with powders to press against her face, Mary had locked her room, refusing that anything else might be done in an attempt to augment her appearance.

"Oh, Mary, what a sight you are!" Margaret clapped her hands and she rushed down the stairs to greet her. "I do think that you appear so very angelic and regal in such a gown. I never knew you to be one to wear pink. You appear so well suited for dark colors. I could picture you in a lovely gown of purple or burgundy and being the belle of the ball!"

"No balls for me tonight, I suppose." And Mary smiled at the thought. "Or, perhaps, for any time in the very near future."

"Oh, you are so very humorous," Margaret remarked, giggling. "We are all set to dine already. It is a very early evening for us all, but I thought that John should like to see you before he departed for London in the morning."

"Jonathan?" Mary stopped as she entered the dining room where she saw Jonathan sitting beside William, both who smiled the same mischievous grin. Mary turned to Margaret, who merely shrugged and gave her the same flash of teeth. "I did not know you were still in Hertfordshire."

"Yes, I thought I should make sure my brother adjusted well enough," Jonathan patted his brother's back. "How are you fairing, dear brother of mine?"

"I am well enough," Mary noted William's wanly countenance and how he was slumped over in his chair. "It has been a long day."

"For all of us," Margaret piped in. "And does Mary not look as if she has undergone a long day?"

"Oh, I most certainly can note a change in her," Jonathan remarked. "This _is_ Mary Bennet, I think…"

"Jonathan!" Mary exclaimed. "I am not different that I was the previous day."

"I merely jest," Jonathan replied.

Supper occurred quite rapidly, amidst all of the conversation. It did appear awkward to Mary when she realized she dined with Mr. Gallagher and Margaret as if they were family and, indeed, they might possibly well had been, had Mary continued to reside at Hertfordshire with Mrs. Bennet any longer than she had before she departed to Pemberley. It was an odd instance, for one to dine with the persons who represented a past and a future. With the Gallagher's, Mary knew well they were a family that had pervaded her past, in a life of mere waiting for life to begin. However, the Cadaver's were a family to which she had recently found within her acquaintance, who have allowed for her to begin anew and finally embark towards a life where she might find some degree of enjoyment. Amidst these realizations, Mary grinned most profoundly, knowing well that by dining here amongst these particular persons, her life would never again be the same.

"Does Mary not look lovely this evening, John?" William inquired as they sat in a small parlor with only two benches and a small table that separated them. "Conversing with Margaret with such a smile! It does appear as if Mary Bennet does find herself to be an entirely new person."

"I am sure she is not completely anew," Jonathan whispered his reply, though both knew the young ladies across them paid not attention to their conversation. "Do you not still see some degree of a pedantic air about her?"

"I dare say she shall have it all of her life," William grinned. "It is not so bad of a thing, John, for a woman to glow with the knowledge that she does possess a certain degree of uniqueness that sets her apart from all else. Do you suppose that is what puts a twinkle in her eyes?"

"Her eyes do sparkle with their own secrets," Jonathan answered. "Ido not know what it makes them so very enticing, but it is a feature that surely does not go unnoticed by those within her acquaintance."

"See, you can be a bit polished up, if you wish it." William teased, noting the difference in his brother's speech. "Perhaps remaining here shall put some good upon you, John?"

"I much rather prefer the outdoors and adventures…"

"Can you not receive it here?"

"Hertfordshire is no Rome, brother."

"Oh, but it does provide the soul with just as much exhilaration." William replied. "It is not the place that makes it worthwhile, John, but the inhabitants. Do you not think so?"

"Think what, William?" Margaret looked up. "Whatever are the two of you speaking of? Surely not of another woman?"

"Never," William shook his head.

"Oh, so might you enlighten us with those tender words that you might possibly speak of?" Margaret batted her eyelashes and Mary controlled allowing herself to laugh at such a coquettish display.

"Perhaps we might take a walk and I shall enlighten you further?" William suggested, rising and helping her up.

"I should take great delight in it!"

"Young love," Mary shrugged and offered Jonathan a smile. "I suppose there is not a thing a person might do in regards to it."

"It is a surprise you can possibly think at all, amidst all of that curl upon your head." Jonathan laughed when Mary placed a hand upon her hair.

"Well, if it impedes upon my ability to think, then perhaps I should put an end to such frivolities."

Reaching both hands up, Mary begin to pull pins out of her hair, placing them upon a table until they piled up and she was most certain her hair was empty of such things. Looking up now with a triumphant smile, Jonathan did not speak instantaneously as he would have initially liked to. Her hair had fallen in waves, outlining her cheeks and the curves of her face. He spent the first minutes staring in ambivalence of whether he preferred her hair straight or in these curls, and after a few more minutes of contemplation, Jonathan Cadaver was able to conclude it mattered not what fashion her hair was in, for it would always appear just as glorious as it typically did.

"My, it does appear as if you are actually thinking quite deeply, Jonathan." Mary laughed. "Shall I leave you with a few more minutes of contemplation, or are you through with whatever thoughts possess you at this moment."

"You… look so divine, sitting before me, Mary."

"Oh," Mary's eyes fell before she looked up again with her reply. "I do suppose that is a common remark in regards to the women of your life, Jonathan. I am quite glad that I was able to provoke you to share the same sentiments. I am glad that we are beginning to grow closer."

"No, Mary, I do not say this to every women within my acquaintance," Jonathan replied. "I have never spoken about things such as this before. Never. Only to you."

"John…" Mary sucked in her bottom lip at the feel of her heart exhilarating when he stood, in fear of what might occur.

"I do think I have never heard my name so beautifully spoken," Jonathan knelt upon the floor before her, and Mary's eyes went wide. "Mary, I do not speak this because I am a flirt, nor because I wish to find some fun in the company of a woman, nor will I do you the injustice of jesting with you. Please believe me that what I speak of is true, and is meant only for you, and never for any other lady that I might ever find in my life…"

"Jonathan…" Mary shook her head. "You do not know what you speak of."

"Of course I do," Jonathan laughed. "I have never been so certain. You… you are an enigma to me, Mary. Being in your presence, I feel myself so easily captivated by all that you do. Before, I might have thought I was so enchanted merely by my absence for eight months aboard a ship as I sailed to various ports in the Mediterranean without many a women for company, but I know it was not what has driven me to pursue you. Everything that has occurred is my fault. Had I not striven so to sneak into the Chamberlain Ball as I had done, my brother would not be out of work, and you would still be accepted into your brother-in-law's home. But I cannot wish for such things to not have occurred, for they brought me closer to this moment. When I first met you, you appeared so brazen and my brother told me that it was quite out of character for you, but I am glad that such a transfiguration has occurred. Can you not see the good I do you? The good we do each other? Never before might I have cared so much in regards to how I spoke. I have forgotten, as of late, how it is to speak so formally to another, but I take upon such a task, for I wish to please you, Mary. Can we not embark on our own journey together now?"

"My, you do enjoy to talk…"

"Please, Mary, I do try to be frank with you, but I simply cannot if you tease me so."

"Jonathan, I know not what to tell you…"

"Tell me that you love me and wish to leave this life for adventures with me. Do you not desire such adventures, Mary? All that has occurred so far, it may continue, if only you would be with me…"

"Jonathan, those are not the adventures I need."

"Whatever else could you ask for?"

"Can you not see we are not compatible in the least?" Mary asked. "Jonathan, I am…you are just not for me!"

"Mary, you speak nonsense! Can you not see how happy you are when we are together? How happy we make one another?"

"You do not know me at all, Jonathan Cadaver…" Mary answered. "Why, I… you could not possibly wish to marry me. I am far too logical and pragmatic and… dull."

"You have not been dull in the least bit, Mary!" Jonathan reached for her hands. "Please, Mary, you can leave all of this. We can leave all of this. Come with me, and I might take you to places you never before might have known."

"Jonathan, I cannot leave now." Mary shook her head. "Not when I am beginning to understand it all."

"Understand? Whatever is left to understand?"

"This is why we are so very different," Mary responded. "John, you wish to have fun all of your life. You take no precautions and, frankly, I almost always shall. As much as I wish for adventures, Jonathan, I yearn for my own piece of solitude. I wish to settle down eventually, and to have a family, and a home with a library, where I might spend evenings with my husband, reading to the children. With you… John… you will never want that, and I could never place you in such a position. You wish to explore the world, and I simply cannot offer you that."

"Mary, do you think me so selfish that I would force you into a life you wish not to be a part of?"

"I mean this not to hurt you, Jonathan, but to accept would be to place me in such a life." Mary had never seen a man more dejected. "Can you not see that we are far too different to ever be together? Can we not just be friends, as William is with me?"

"William would have married you in an instant, had he not heard word of your supposed engagement." Jonathan retorted. "Why, can you not see that he shall always love you!"

"We have discussed it, Jonathan, but William loves Margaret. We shall always keep within us our first love, but it shall not be the end of us to not have the first work out so well. William is entirely fine with his life, and he has neverbeen happier, with Margaret there by his side."

"It does make me wonder, Mary, if perhaps it is my own life of so very little standing that you choose to dismiss me so callously…"

"Jonathan, do not say such…"

"Please, do not do me the injustice of ignoring these words when I think they need to be said! You have grown so accustomed to being amongst men such as Edward Pendleton and all of those husbands of your sisters of so high of standing, I dare say you shall settle for no less than they…"

"How can you compare me now to my sisters…"

"I do not even know them, so how shall I compare? Mary, perhaps it is not _I _who compare you against them, but _you_ who compares me to their husbands. I possess no amount of wealth. Though I inherited my family's small estate, I have ruined such a life by pursuing the journey of a sailor. I suppose a lady such as yourself might never lower herself to such a position, with an uncultured husband of less intelligence, who cannot quote to you poetry or speak of love so eloquently."

"Why must you tell me this things?" Mary felt tears sting her eyes.

"Perhaps these be the words that you need to hear," Jonathan replied. "You might know of mathematics and geography and philosophy, and become the master of literature and all that is essentially genius, but you know not the first thing of love."

"John…"

"And, I believe, that is your downfall, Mary Bennet." Jonathan stood from where he had previously knelt and walked from the room. "And, the thing that makes you so tragic a person, Miss Mary, is that you know it to be true."


	15. Volume II Part 5

**9 **

Perhaps it was the initial shock of her first offer or proposal or the flush or mortification of Jonathan Cadaver's final words, but Mary Bennet found her heart beating at an accelerated pace for the remainder of the day. Mary departed the Gallagher household the moment after Jonathan left her, and William and Margaret knew well not to inquire of what occurred as they saw her march away.

"I told him that he be a fool to suspect anything further from this relationship with Mary," William admitted to his betrothed. "He is a rogue and she a scholar. They are entirely ridiculous, and so very different."

"Are we not all fools?" Margaret asked. "I am not so alike you either, William, yet here we are…"

"Yes, but you have accepted me. Mary did not in regards to John."

"He should not give up. Persistence is a desirable quality in a man."

"I do wonder if John did love her, though…"

"William! How can you say such a thing! He is your brother."

"John has been so accustomed to women he cannot imagine life without them. He has been far too long without the company of one, and Mary is so very different from them all, he was easily captivated. This rejection is not likely to cause much injury upon him. By morning he shall be on the rebound and he shall find a baker's dozen more willing companions by supper, I am sure."

"He does not appear to be so devoid of injury, William." Margaret noted as Jonathan Cadaver sat upon the steps, his head bowed and hands tangled within his hair. "Perhaps you should speak with him?"

"You need not worry of John. He is a true Casanova of his times."

"Do not forget that he, too, came to find true love."

"I dare say he shall, but not with Mary."

Upon looking up, the two found the step empty, and Jonathan Cadaver was no where to be found.

* * *

_Never might I have thought Jonathan Cadaver to be the sort of man to think himself so very in love with me that he should propose, for I believe that was what he wished to speak of before I continued to prevent such words to ever escape. Him, the man who flirted openly and received no guilt from all his troublesome ways, thinks me to be compatible? He is more suited for Lydia and, perhaps, if she had not lost the small degree of sensibility within her to elope and marry Wickham, she might have met Jonathan and they could have made a happy couple. Whyever would I willingly choose to spend a life with a person who shares the same whims as my youngest sister? Am I to be rid of that nuisance merely to gain another?_

"Mary! Mary!" Mrs. Bennet pounded upon her door.

"Mama, I shall not speak of supper at the Gallagher's, nor shall I tell of Chamberlain Hall. You need not invest the remainder of the evening in such fruitless attempts."

"Never mind that, blessed child of mine!" Mrs. Bennet seemed to sing in merriment. "You have another guest tonight. I do hope you have not changed your attire since you arrived at home, sweetest girl, for I am sure our visitor shall be very pleased with your apparel…"

"Whoever might choose to visit at such a time…"

Mrs. Bennet skipped down the stairs with a youthful vigor as she led her daughter to where her guest waited. Mr. Richardson fumbled with his spectacles as Mary Bennet, with her hair down and her face still flushed from her first encounter with a man that evening, entered the room. He rose clumsily, fumblingwith the book within his hands as he approached her in a trembling fashion.

"M-m-m-Miss Bennet," he held out his hand and bowed, and Mary saw his hands shook. "It is a pleasure to… find myself in your acquaintance once more."

"I do not expect you to visit."

"But we are very pleased to have you here, Mr. Richardson." Mrs. Bennet told him. "Very pleased, indeed. You are welcome here whenever you would like, and I am most certain Mary would enjoy you to visit often as well."

"Mama!"

"If I am permitted, perhaps I might take Miss Bennet for a walk?" Mr. Richardson suggested and Mary was stunned the man could utter such a bold statement without hesitancy.

"Of course… of course!" Mrs. Bennet ran to open the door from them. "I am sure she shall take great delight in your company. What a capital suggestion."

"I do hope I do not interfere with your reading, Miss Bennet, by my unexpected arrival."

"It was no intrusion at all," Mary turned to look back and saw Mrs. Bennet waving as if she now road away happily married this very moment. "Though I do wonder why you went through such a bother merely to visit…"

"Can you not think why, Miss Bennet?"

"I did think that after our first meeting… I did not behave so politely as a lady should."

"I dare say it was most bedazzling," Mr. Richardson replied. "I have never before seen such a display from a woman. It was most intriguing. I do find much enjoyment in a woman who might think for herself."

"What tales do you often find yourself reading, Mr. Richardson?"

"As of late, I have merely maintained my studies for my students," Mr. Richardson explained. "I teach English Literature at the University."

"A teacher?" Mary raised an eyebrow. "I did not know you teach."

"Yes, over in London." Mr. Richardson informed. "I am returning now from the weekend, and thought I might call upon you, since you live upon the way."

"How convenient for you."

A silence passed now in which Mary Bennet looked ahead and Mr. Richardson fumbled with his book, his eyes shifting uncertainly at the book in his hands and the woman who walked beside him.

"Perhaps… I might… p-p-possibly… indulge you with some verse, Miss Mary?"

"Yes, I do take much delight in such things."

_"I am your spaniel; and, my dear Mary/ The more you beat me, I will fawn on you./Use me but as your spaniel: spurn me, strike me/Neglect me, lose me: only give me leave/Unworthy as I am, to follow you./What worser place can I beg in your love-/And yet a place of high respect with me-/Than to be used as you use your dog?"_

"It is Shakespeare, is it not?"

"Yes, from A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"Of course, I am well-versed in Shakespeare as well…" Mary grinned in complacence. "_Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit/For I am sick when I do look on thee_."

"Have you come to memorize all of Shakespeare's plays?" Mr. Richardson inquired, though he felt himself pale at her reply. "It does appear as if I am in the presence of a true scholar."

"Just some of his shorter ones," Mary answered. "I did so love the brilliance of such stories as a child I would read them to my younger sisters until I memorized them. It did provide me with much ease as my sisters grew older and still desired that I read to them the same tales."

"Have you not thought of pursuing education?"

"Surely such places as universities would not allow for a female to attend…" Mary answered, though she smiled at the thought.

"No, I mean for you to teach."

"Teach?" Mary's smile faded as that idea came to an end.

"Why, of course! You could be a governess. It is a stable enough living, and you should receive a substantial income for your services. I do recommend it, for it is most rewarding."

"I have never before considered such an option."

"You should, for I am most certain you shall provide the acme of education."

"How long do you intend to reside at Hertfordshire, Mr. Richardson?"

"I shall continue with my journey this very evening. I must return before my lessons begin tomorrow."

"Oh, I would not wish to deter you or cause you to be dilatory," Mary responded when she knew not anything else to say.

"You need not worry of such things."

"But I should feel responsible if you were denied such punctuality on account of our rendezvous," Mary told him, more for her sake, than his. "It does grow late, after all."

"I suppose I should walk you home," Mr. Richardson agreed. "You are very considerate, Miss Bennet, to consider my circumstances."

"You give me too much credit for my actions."

"Nonsense, I do not give enough."

* * *

**10 **

The departure of Mr. Richardson put an end to Mrs. Bennet's inquiries of Mary Bennet's previous affairs. Within her mind, it mattered not the past now, so long as her daughter had a hopeful future with the emergence of this eligible gentleman within her daughter's life. Again, Mrs. Bennet found herself enveloped in merriment for her daughter, of whom she was now, most certain, would find happiness within her relationship to this new gentleman in her life.

"A teacher, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet sat upon the ground, leaning against the locked door of her husband's study. "Could I not ask for more for our Mary? Why, she was always one to enjoy books, and now she has a professor of literature at her doorsteps! There shall be no doubt that she shall find happiness with this match!"

"Perhaps you should plan the wedding, my dear." Mr. Bennet suggested. "In case the man proposes as early as you anticipate."

"Oh, do you not think I have not already? You give me no credit at all, Mr. Bennet!"

"Does Mary truly feel an attachment with this man?"

"Why, of course she must!" Mrs. Bennet replied. "The man is every bit alike as she! So very proper and a perfect gentleman. A professor at a university, can you think of it, Mr. Bennet? She shall have a lovely home in London, oh my blessed girl!"

"I was never one to choose the city before the country…"

"Oh, but she should be amongst such great minds…" Mrs. Bennet told him. "There are libraries there where she might invest her days. Yes, it is the most perfect situation. She shall not refuse this one…"

"Do not be so certain."

"I see no reason why I should not," Mrs. Bennet answered. "Whyever would Mary not choose the man? He is perfectly amiable and so very compatible. I have never met a man so alike as my own daughter."

"Yes, but we have wed, and are we so very alike, my dear?"

"Oh, you say this merely to rile me up, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet answered. "You need not find reason to tease me, especially in such moments of joy! Our daughter… with a caller!"

Mrs. Bennet's words of joy with her husband were cut off when the door was knocked upon and a servant called for a Miss Mary Bennet. She stood abruptly from where she sat and hurried up the stairs.

"Mama, I am already downstairs." Mary saw her mother rush up the staircase. "You need not fetch me."

"Well, go to greet you guest!" Mrs. Bennet ordered. "And if it is Mr. Richardson, and you have neglected him so upon our doorstep… hurry!"

"It is only William, mama." Mrs. Bennet looked below and saw the boy standing beside her daughter.

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet laughed and sat upon the stairs. "Hello, child."

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Bennet." William called above. "If you would not mind, I should like to take Mary for a walk."

"Yes, you may, but do bring her back, for she might have a visitor today, and I should not wish to keep him waiting!"

"Whatever is your mother speaking of, Mary?" William inquired when they had departed for the outdoors.

"Oh, Mr. Richardson arrived at my home only last evening when I returned from the Gallagher's, and she feels he shall call again, though I am most certain that he remains in London, teaching to his classes." Mary answered. "Mama is so very anxious for me and Mr. Richardson. I dare say she makes up for my own lack of enthusiasm."

"Mr. Richardson?" William thought back to remember the man. "Was he not who Edward Pendleton wished for you to meet?"

"Yes, and I found it most odd that he should seek me out, after the display that occurred at the Chamberlain Ball."

"He should be a good match for you, Mary." William told her. "He is a true gentleman, I do assure you. He is a friend of Edward Pendleton's as a child, but they are not alike at all. He is very shy, I believe, and finds himself stuttering or at a loss of words when he is nervous."

"Yes, I did notice that about the man." Mary laughed. "He is very amiable, and he can maintain a conversation of literature if he willed it, but he did appear a bit dull. I found myself to provide him with the same monotonous conversation as he provided me. I am not sure if I could expect much from him." Mary ceased her talk of the man and turned to William. "How have you adjusted to work at the Gallagher's? I did notice yesterday that you appeared very tired and worn. Never before had I noted such terrible posture from William Cadaver."

"It is most terrible," William moaned. "I am not made to be a farmer, Mary. I simply cannot last another day. I could not sleep last night, for my arms and back ached. I am not built like my brother. He easily completed his work, and then finished the remainder of my own, but he disappeared last night with the horse and carriage. I suspect he left early for wherever he feels he is destined to depart to now."

"Oh," Mary tried not to convey any indication of the events that occurred between Jonathan and herself. "Well, what shall you do about the work, William? You cannot possibly continue your labor on the farm. I could not stand to have you injure yourself, and I am sure Margaret shares the same feelings as I."

"That is why I come to you today, Mary…" William began. "I do not wish for you to think I take advantage of our relationship, or that I use you for my own personal gains, but might you extend my services to one of your sister's families? I shall be a indentured servant for them, for it is what I am so accustomed to. I am just not made to make a living from being a farmer."

"I completely understand," Mary nodded. "I did offer you to work at Pemberley if you wished. I am sure if I talked to my sister, she would understand. If not, I could merely talk to her husband, or his sister, who is likely to influence his decision as well."

"You would do that for me, Mary?"

"Of course. Is that not what a friend would do for another?"

"Yes," William laughed. "I dare say that is what a friend might do."

"So I suppose that provides us with the consideration of when we should depart for Pemberley…" Mary pondered. "When would you like to leave?"

"Could we possibly leave soon?" William suggested, blushing. "I cannot imagine another day of work. I fear I shall die."

"Then I suppose we should leave tomorrow, lest you die from the labor." Mary laughed. "Does tomorrow suit you?"

"You would not mind?"

"I already tire of all of this," Mary shrugged. "And I do enjoy the company of my sister-in-law. She is a dearest friend of mine, and I do feel as if I have not seen her in a month."

"My, we leave already." William grinned. "It does appear as if you have roots no where anymore, Mary Bennet."

"I dare say I do not," Mary replied. "But it is better that way, for I do enjoy picking myself up and moving about. Such travels seem to do me much good."

"I have observed what all of this has done for you, Mary." William told her. "And I could not agree more."

* * *

**AN:** So, Mary Bennet and William Cadaver embark for Pemberley once more. Do review and tell me what you think, and I shall be sure to type rapidly and update soon. Perhaps tomorrow? 


	16. Volume II Part 6

**11 **

Mrs. Bennet awoke the following morning to find her daughter's room empty. Shrieking, she awoke her husband, who abandoned his slumber to walk in Mary Bennet's room. There, Mrs. Bennet dropped upon the bed in a sickened fashion, declaring she was unable to stand without fainting. Mr. Bennet ignored the cries of his wife as he searched the abandoned room and, upon the writing desk, he noticed a small note detailing that Mary had departed for Pemberley for the sake of a friend and that she would write when she was to return to Hertfordshire. The note provide little relief to Mrs. Bennet, who moaned in misery until her husband noted that Pemberley was a deal closer to London, and that, perhaps, Mr. Richardson might visit her while she resided there.

Mary had packed her belongings when she had returned from her walk with William. She did not sleep, but wrote the entire night, stopping only to gather her things and meet with William. He brought with him a horse that he had borrowed from his future family, and they embarked on the journey to Pemberley together.

As was the affairs of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy and his wife had not yet returned from their trip in London, and Georgiana had decided to visit them for a few days. She had returned three days ago, and had chosen to invest her days in the music room with her piano forte as a companion. She had awoken early and practiced throughout the day, not moving from where she sat until a servant intruded with news that she had guests.

"Mary!" Georgiana ran down the steps to embrace her friend. "I did wonder how you were doing, and am so glad that we meet again! It has been too long, has it not? I have grown accustomed to having you present within my life. Do stay as long as you would like."

"Thank you," Mary answered with a smile. "I am very grateful for your hospitality after so short notice. Actually, there was no notice at all of my arrival. I do apologize for not informing you. It was a most urgent decision…"

"You need not apologize for providing me with company, I do grow so very lonesome with my brother away." Georgiana told her. "I have not found much to entertain besides my music, but there is only so much that I might indulge myself in… oh… who is this?"

"Oh," Mary laughed, and Georgiana made a face, surprised by her reaction. "I am sorry for not introducing him earlier. This is William Cadaver. He is…"

"My, Mary, how could you not tell me there was a man in your life!" Georgiana's eyes focused on her friend's companion, and William grew red at her stares. "Why, he is very handsome, I must say. You have chosen a wonderful companion. And… my… do I note a change in my friend as well?" Georgiana walked around Mary in a circle. "It does appear as if you are a different lady than last I saw you. Why, there is more of a glow to you, surely from such happiness, and it is such a delight to see you smile! Whatever has this man done to you, Mary?"

"He is a dear friend of mine," Mary grinned and presented William to her. "I am in debt to him, for being so supportive and loyal as of late, and wished to ask of you to employ him to work at Pemberley."

"Oh, I should be delighted to have him around here! Any friend of yours, Mary, is surely to be a friend of mine, as well."

"I am glad to hear such things," Mary responded.

"So, William, tell me of your previous employment."

"Oh…" William's eyes fell.

"It was entirely my fault for his unemployment." Mary stepped forward, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "He was the first hand for Edward Pendleton and I had ruined it for him."

"Do not say such things, Mary."

"It is the truth. Georgiana, Edward Pendleton is as arrogant as Lucifer himself! A terrible, selfish snot. I am surprised I did not suspect it from him earlier, but he is heartless… truly. William's brother, Jonathan, had attended Edward's ball without permission, and he had followed me outside upon my departing from the event. Edward had followed us as well, and thought something scandalous must have occurred with Jonathan and myself in solitude, and he caused a scene. Kitty was there, as was his friend, Mr. Richardson, and William appeared at an inopportune moment, and he faced the remainder of Edward Pendleton's wrath. William had been a servant to Edward for years, and our dear Mr. Pendleton abandoned his contract and left him with nothing, kicking us both out of his home without another thought to it."

"I should have suspected no less from him," Georgiana frowned and, after a moment of silence, she laughed. "My, and I was so sure that I was in love with him! We are all such silly people, Mary."

"I do acquiesce to that statement," Mary agreed. "But you do think your brother should allow William to work here?"

"Of course he shall," Georgiana confirmed. "Why, I shall not hear anything else from him! And my brother does owe me a favor or two for being absent for so very long."

"They are young and in love, Georgiana, I am sure once they settle…"

"Once they settle, it shall be because Elizabeth is with child, and then his days will be spent with the children, naturally." Georgiana sighed. "I suppose it is only fair. I spent sixteen years with him, and he was a most wondrous brother. He is merely doing the same for his wife, and, possibly soon, his family."

"Life shall never be the same," Mary sighed. "Last night, as I wrote, my first impulse was to take a cloth over the candle to muffle the light, lest they wake my sisters in the bed, and it was then that I realized that they were not there. When they first departed, I would wake and slip out of my room quietly, tip-toeing across the hall and down the stairs, afraid I might wake them all up. We all grow up so very fast."

"Yes, but it does feel so dreadfully lonesome, when you have not grown up quite yet." Georgiana's serious tone faded as she grinned. "Now, how about I gather your belongings and take you to your room? Then I shall introduce William to some of the staff."

"No, it is alright, you just go with William." Mary answered. "I know very well where I should bring my things."

"Of course, this is your home away from home." Georgiana giggled. "Well, do join us when you are done with… wait… I shall just call a servant to bring you belongings upstairs!"

"She is a very sweet girl," William whispered to Mary as Georgiana led them through the halls. "I can see why she is a close friend of yours, Mary."

"She is the sister to the man who captured the heart of my sister, Elizabeth. Of course she would be amiable and pleasing and the most wonderful person you might find within your acquaintance."

* * *

**12 **

Mary Bennet and William Cadaver settled into the life of Pemberley quite rapidly, with William spending the remainder of the time with the staff, he had already become the favorite to many of the officials who held the high positions that William had in Chamberlain Hall. Georgiana had wrote to her brother that very day to speak of William's circumstances, and she convinced him in a most assured manner that her brother should provide him with compensations from the rudeness of his previous master.

Her friendship with Georgiana just as blossoming as before, Mary spent the majority of her day with her sister-in-law. Georgiana took great delight in Mary's change, and was pleased to have a friend who reciprocated the same laughter and smiles as she.

"Oh, you cannot mean what you say!" Georgiana gasped as Mary reached for a bonnet. "You did not enjoy town at all the last that you stayed. Why, I could not put you through such a torturous activity, Mary."

"I would very much like to see and meet new people," Mary answered. "Since I have found myself in so many new acquaintances as of late, I have learned that I do enjoy to learn of new people. They are so very entertaining to observe."

"My, I did not think you to take enjoyment in that."

"Well… I was hoping that one of those in Derbyshire might be leaving for London, so they might deliver something for me…"

"Now that sounds more like something my friend would do," Georgiana smiled. "So, whatever are you sending? Surely not a letter to do your sister…"

"No, I am sure Elizabeth is doing well…"

"Then who could it… oh… Mary… do not tell me you met another man!"

"His name is Mr. Richardson," Mary explained, sitting down upon her bed when Georgiana jumped atop it on her stomach, her hands propped beneath her chin. "He is a childhood friend of Edward Pendleton's, but not like him in the least. It is so odd, for he is very much like myself, despite the fact that he occasionally stutters when he grows too nervous. He is an avid reader and lover of literature and he teaches it at the university in London. I did not know there was so much in common between the two of us until he arrived at my home on his way to London to call. It does appear as if my scandalous display at the Chamberlain ball played no effect on him except to intrigue and entice him."

"My, he does appear so very compatible for you," Georgiana giggled. "It does appear too perfect!"

"Perfect? I thought so too initially," Mary frowned.

"But, of course it is. Whatever could be wrong? He sounds so very like you, Mary."

"That is the thing of it, Georgiana. He is so very like how I used to be, I find our conversation so very dull, and when I was with him, I could only reciprocate the same humdrum as he. It was not exciting in the least."

"It does appear as if Mary Bennet grows picky with her men," Georgiana teased. "Have you set your standards higher now, knowing well you can attract the attention of a man?"

"Georgiana!" Mary shook her head with laughter. "It does appear so very ridiculous and silly, to sit here and talk of men and tease one another. I am eighteen! Such things are far too childish…"

"Oh, but is it not enjoyable?"

"Why, of course it is!"

"And this Jonathan?" Georgiana questioned. "You mentioned him when you first came. What of him?"

"Oh… John…" Mary bit her lip, not sure where to begin. "He is William's brother. I met him when William took me to the ocean. He is a sailor, and certainly does act the part. He is quite the scoundrel, when I really think of it. He is a flirt and a thief and a pleasure-seeker and… why… he is the biggest rogue I have ever heard of!"

"My, not the highest opinion of the man, I see."

"No, no… I do not mean to paint a bad portrait of him…"

"Certainly what you described cannot be good?"

"The oddity of it all, Georgiana, was that it _was_ good." Mary laughed. "When we acted so very indecent and did the most terrible things… it was all so very… exhilarating! I do not think I should be the same person I was, had I not met the man."

"Well, I am certain that I should take delight in his company as well, if you can." Georgiana responded, though in a skeptical tone. "So what became of the man, Mary? Did he find himself in too much trouble and was sent to prison?"

"Honestly, I am not sure where he is at present time." Mary answered. "But… Georgiana, you might think so ill of me…"

"I do not think that you could do anything to make me think less of you, Mary."

"Jonathan… before I departed… he had proposed."

"A proposal! Mary, how could you not tell me this when I first saw you?"

"I did not wish for William to know, lest he think ill of me, for causing such injury to his brother." Mary bowed her head. "It was all so very sudden, and I never suspected it. He told me that he had found me unlike any other woman he had ever met, and that he wished for me to join him on his journeys. It was not a formal proposal, I know, but I think that had I not interrupted so and assured him that we were not compatible, he might have proceeded to do so."

"Whyever would you interrupt, Mary? The least a lady might do is listen to the poor man."

"I… it was all so very sudden, I could not think!" Mary continued to bite her lip, not sure how to best explain herself. "The man… Jonathan… he was jesting with me moments before and then he was so very serious, upon his knees and all, and I knew not if it was all a joke or if he meant what he spoke of. I just… why would he love me? We are so very different, it would never work between the two of us. We know not the first thing of one another and we shared only a few laughs. That is it. What could have possessed him to do such a thing?"

"Perhaps… love?" Georgiana laughed at the look upon her friend's face. "My, I never before heard you so flabbergasted, Mary Bennet."

"It could not be love…" Mary disagreed. "Men like Jonathan Cadaver do not love women like me, Georgiana. Men like Jonathan Cadaver rush after those beauties that all men would initially hope to capture, and then he abandons them for another when he has had his fill. Men like Jonathan Cadaver would never choose to willingly spend their days with a women who did not care so about she looked, who would spend days secluded within a library if given the opportunity…"

"There is that pragmatic mind of yours that always governs you."

"It does not govern me all of the time…"

"It shall be the end of you, you know."

"My, Georgiana, I am not so tragic of a character to deserve such a statement!"

"I am merely teasing," Georgiana grinned. "Well, shall we depart for town now?"

"I do not think we have a choice. I have no more tales to share of me and men, and I do doubt I shall have any more anytime relatively soon."

"Do not be so certain of that."

"Whyever should I not?"

"Has it never occurred to you that none of your sisters has had so many endeavors with such a myriad of men as you have?"

Mary laughed at the thought, "Why, you are most certainly right!"


	17. Volume II Part 7

**AN:** Skydancinghobbit, I thought of you when I wrote this chapter! I'm sure you will be able to guess why. Please, all critiques, suggestions, etc… are all taken in with much appreciation and consideration. Thanks again to all who have R&R. You make this the best experience!

* * *

**13 **

Upon arrival into town, Mary found just as many eyes upon her and Georgiana as ever before. It was peculiar, to know that she looked no different than the days where she passed through the streets of Meryton, but mennow grinned as she passed. It was an odd sensation for a lady who was so very accustomed to being ignored by all of society.

"Have I truly changed that much, Georgiana?" Mary whispered, locking arms with her friend. "The people… they stare so."

"Is not the most beautiful thing in the world one who is content with theirself?" Georgiana asked, returning the smiles in a manner that had Mary giggling. "Perhaps you should wave to a few, Mary. These men think they are bold to grin at us so, but we are bolder, of that I am sure."

"Is this an appropriate wave?" Mary grinned as well, and even threw in a wink. "My, this is something more suited for Lydia than myself. I feel rather ridiculous acting so juvenile."

"Oh, it is only a short way to Mrs. Barnaby's."

"We are to visit her again?"

"Why, I am sure she should be able to help us, Mary."

Mrs. Barnaby sat behind the counter, threading a needle with her eyes squinting, but at the sound of the bell ringing, she stood and rushed to the door.

"Georgiana!" she embraced the girl and then let out a cry of joy. "Why, is this _Mary_ Bennet before me? Goodness child, I do not think I ever did see a more pleasant girl in all of my life! You have such a natural glow to you at this moment, it is most lovely. And look at that hair! It is nearly to your waist!"

"I do think it to be a wise decision to grow out my hair."

"Oh, there be no doubt about that, child." Mrs. Barnaby wobbled to the counter and motioned for them to follow. "Just look at you both! So youthful and vibrant! I never saw two girls with more life within them. It is a wonder all of the men are not escorting you through the door."

"I do not think the men shall so easily follow a coquette," Georgiana responded innocently, batting her eyes.

"Do not tell me you have decided to become one of _those_ girls, Georgiana Darcy!"

"You need not worry for me, Mrs. Barnaby, I was merely having my fun."

"Why, of course I shall worry for you, child!" Mrs. Barnaby replied. "I do doubt that every man who lays his eyes on your pretty face would turn you down, if ever they had the opportunity to have you. I could not live another day to have such a sweet lamb taken by a wolf. Now I do not wish to ever hear of you making eyes at those men, Georgiana Darcy, or I shall be forced to escort you around the town myself to make sure those men keep their distance."

"Well, you need not put yourself through such trouble, for I am most certainly never going to place myself in the position to allow a man to take advantage of me." Georgiana turned to Mary. "I suppose now you understand what I mean when I speak of Mrs. Barnaby being the mother of all us young ladies."

"Without a doubt."

"And I suppose Miss Darcy was not alone in this act, Miss Mary Bennet?"

"You suppose quite correctly, Mrs. Barnaby."

"Such lovely girls you both are," Mrs. Barnaby shook her head. "I do hope that neither of you find yourselves with those men who only care to find themselves within the arms of a pretty lady for a night."

"No, we shall never find us prone to be the prey of such men." Mary assured.

"I suppose this is enough of my talk on that," Mrs. Barnaby leaned over the counter to grab a ruler. "Now, what sort of dress do you ladies wish to look for today?"

"Oh, we are not here to shop for dresses," Georgiana answered. "Mary wishes to deliver a letter to a friend in London, and I thought that you might know of a person who departs for there soon."

"You do know where to go to get what you want, Georgiana." Mrs. Barnaby remarked. "Both of you are quite fortunate, for my eldest son, Roland's, wife is leaving this very evening for London! She has helped me with some of the latest gowns that I have in stock. I am most certain she shall deliver the letter for you."

"Thank you," Mary handed her the letter. "You are right. It is very fortunate that we are in your acquaintance."

"You all are such dears, and I know not if I could have had sucha daughter!" Mrs. Barnaby commented and read who the letter was addressed to. "A Mr. Thomas Richardson. Richardson? That name sounds so very familiar..."

"I do believe that Roland knows a Mr. Thomas Richardson," a women emerged from a back room. "He works at the university, I believe."

"Yes, that is the man I write to." Mary acknowledged. "However does Mrs. Barnaby's son know Mr. Richardson?"

"My husband works at the university as well."

"Oh, Roland was always such an intellectual! Such a gifted little boy, I do recall…"

"We often have him dine with us for supper. As far as I have heard, the man has nothing but his studies. It must be a lonely life."

"Well, it does appear as if the man might not be so alone in due time." Mrs. Barnaby winked at Mary. "Is he an affectionate man, Miss Bennet?"

"I know not enough of him to tell you," Mary replied. "But he is perfectly amiable, and cares greatly for literature."

"Mary is modest," Georgiana told Mrs. Barnaby. "Why, the man is half in love with her! He called upon her and stuttered so very terribly while in her presence, for fear of saying the wrong thing!"

"Georgiana, I know not if that is why he stuttered so!"

"Yes, Thomas always did have trouble with speaking eloquently, for he grows nervous all too quickly." Mrs. Roland Barnaby agreed. "But he is a dear, I do promise you that. He shall be most sincere and I am sure that he shall provide you with much sweetness and endearments."

"I barely know the man," Mary told them all. "You need not speculate so."

"Oh, but I must live vicariously through those I love!" Georgiana answered. "There be no love in my life to uphold and giggle of, so I must find contentment in the excitement of those close to me."

"You are still so very young, Georgiana." Mary replied. "You need not worry of such things quite yet."

"You are not even two years my senior, Mary." Georgiana reminded. "And you have had your fair share of love."

"Please, do not do me the injustice of calling those previous affairs love." Mary laughed. "It was all a bunch of silliness after all."

"Whatever does she mean?" Mrs. Barnaby inquired. "Are my girls already growing up? So soon? Why, I feel myself half in the grave already!"

"It is nothing…"

"Mary does not take pleasure in boasting of her affairs, so I shall." Georgiana interrupted. "Within the month, Mary has encountered five potential husbands. Yes, there was first a Mr. Gallagher I do recall who was far too old with a daughter her age. Then she met Edward Pendleton, and I need not inform you of that, for you have heard enough of the topic from me already. Her dear friend William is a potential as well…"

"Georgiana, William is younger than I and already engaged! You need not consider him…"

"And William has an elder brother, Jonathan, who is more of a coquette than ever I shall be, and he proposed to her!" Georgiana grinned. "But, of course, he was far too indecent to marry, so Mary refused. Now there is Mr. Richardson, whom we all do hope she might marry. Is he not such an amiable, desirable companion, Mary?"

"It does appear as if I have no choice in the matter…"

* * *

**14**

Talk of Mary Bennet's past since her sisters had abandoned her in Hertfordshire made her tire of it all. She withdrew herself into the library for a few days, unable to allow herself to depart to town again, despite Georgiana's urgings that Mrs. Barnaby wished to see her again. Mary found much indulgence with poetry as her companion, and as she opened the page to John Milton's masterpieces, Georgiana burst through the door, a basket within her hands.

"Mary! Oh, Mary… you shall never guess what just came to Pemberley!"

"It does appear as if a basket arrived," Mary noted.

"Do set down your book, for I am sure this shall prove to be more enjoyable than anything within that book." Georgiana handed the basket to Mary and drew a chair to sit in front of her. "Do open it… I have been most anxious to see what its contents are."

"I do not know what nonsense has decided to come my way but…"

Mary's thoughts ended as she opened the top of the basket and found a small kitten within its depths. As dark as her hair, the creature slept soundly and opened its eyes when a hand reached for it. Beneath the kitten was a small piece of paper, which Mary picked up once Georgiana had removed the kitten.

"Oh, it is most adorable!" Georgiana patted the feline with a finger. "I do not believe any other creature might have suited you better, Mary. Cats are so very independent and they have such a regal air about them. Now I suppose you shall always have a companion by your side."

"I do suppose I shall…" Mary's eyebrows furrowed together as she read.

"Whatever does it say?" Georgiana inquired, leaning forward. "Who sent it?"

"I am not sure… it was not signed." Mary cleared her throat before reading. "_But if thou wilt prove faithful then/And constant of thy word/I'll make thee glorious by my pen/And famous by my sword;/I'll serve thee in such noble ways/Was never heard before;/I'll crown and deck thee all with bays/And love thee more and more_."

"My, Mr. Richardson is such a romantic!" Georgiana declared with a sigh. "It does appear as if Mrs. Barnaby's daughter-in-law was correct in her depiction of Mr. Richardson. He does provide much sweetness and endearments."

"It did not say who it was from," Mary reminded.

"Oh, but there is not another soul who might have sent you such a thing," Georgiana replied. "Only a man so knowledgeable in literature might send you a poem. I did not think him to be a poet from what I heard of you, but I suppose he might speak eloquently in pen and not in tongue."

"He did not write it," Mary responded. "It is a poem by James Graham. I believe it is called 'I'll Never Love Thee More'…"

"My, are you so well versed in poetry as well?" Georgiana laughed. "Why, I do think you both were meant for one another!"

"I cannot believe he would do such a thing for me," Mary breathed. "I barely know him."

"It takes only an instant to fall in love!" Georgiana giggled and handed Mary the kitten. "Is it not the most adorable creature you have ever beheld? Why, every time you see this little thing, you shall think of him! Of course he must have thought that when he chose to send it to you."

"I never thought myself to be one to have a pet," the kitten locked eyes with hers, and Mary smiled. "But I do feel it suits me quite well."

"Perhaps you should name it after him?" Georgiana suggested. "Mr. Richardson… it does make the cat appear rather old."

"I was thinking I might name it Graham, after the poet of this verse." The cat blinked and it was sealed. "Yes, I do think I shall name it Graham."

"I suppose it should not be a surprise that you name the creature after a poet," Georgiana shrugged. "It is a deal better than naming it Wisdom or Sensibility…"

"Why, I am not so much a bore as I was!" Mary exclaimed at Georgiana's jokes. "I am perfectly capable of being entertaining."

"Oh, I suppose you might…" Georgiana batted her eyes and a sly grin spread across her face.

"Whatever is going through your head, Georgiana Darcy?" Mary inquired. "I know well when a person is up to some trouble."

"It is no trouble at all, I am sure, unless you make it so." Georgiana giggled. "Prove it."

"Prove what? There be nothing to prove…"

"Show me you are able to entertain."

"Should I head to the music room?"

"No, no! Please, I have had enough music!" Georgiana begged. "No, I think that you should host a gathering. You may decide on what it may be, for I shall not constrict you to plan a ball when you abhor such things…"

"I am glad that you realize that."

"So you shall do it?"

"It does appear as if I have no choice," Mary looked down at her new friend, who had begun to purr in her hand. "So, Graham, what do you suggest?"

"My, if you wait for an answer, Mary, I do think you shall never begin!"

"Who might I invite?"

"Whomever you would like."

"And if they do not attend?"

"Then I suppose you should make it appear interesting enough for them to not miss the opportunity."

"Perhaps I should host lunch and tea at Pemberley?" Mary suggested. "It shall be a picnic. There could be croquette, and I shall have music if anyone does wish to dance, and… my… you must help me on how to entertain the guests from there, Georgiana."

"I suppose I could offer some assistance," Georgiana grinned. "It does sound delightful, Mary. And Pemberley is known for its lovely landscaping and gardens. I do wonder why my brother and I never hosted such a gathering…"

"You both do not detest balls so much as I," Mary laughed. "So I suppose we shall be quite occupied these next few days?"

"Of course!" Georgiana clapped her hands. "Let us not waste another moment, Mary. We should be off to tell the servants to send out some invitations. Naturally, Mr. Richardson shall be invited."

"Mr. Richardson could not possibly leave his work to attend such a thing."

"Do not be so certain. Men do find themselves acting rather rashly when in love. Every moment appears so very valuable, and they are not so patient the type to miss an opportunity to spend with those that their heart calls for."

"And I should take your word, for you are erudite in love?"

"It is what living vicariously does to you, Mary. You might never have experienced such a sensation before in your life, but it enables you to know all that is possible to know on the subject."

"I know not the first thing of love," Mary looked down, remembering the words that were spoken to her so candidly before she had departed for Pemberley. "So I shall take your word in regards to it all."


	18. Volume II Part 8

**15 **

Preparation for the Pemberley picnic lasted for over a sennight. Georgiana worked with Mary to decide on what foods to serve, and chose on which blankets, tables, and chairs might furnish the lawn. Decorations took two days, as they decided on what colors would best compliment the landscape, and Georgiana had insisted upon them shopping for a new outfit for the event.

She had, naturally, chosen another pastel dress of yellow, with white lace framing the neckline and hems, and ribbons of the same hue around her waist. Despite Georgiana's protests on the shade, Mary had decided upon a gown of a deep purple that reminded her very much of the night. Though it was intended to be a gown for a ball, Mrs. Barnaby had pinned up the dress so it was not so short, and had the fabric bunched up from behind her waist, which turned out for the better, for even Georgiana admitted that the gown looked breathtaking with its new adjustments.

However, what truly made these last moments before the picnic appear to be extraordinarily unbearable was Mr. Richardson's response to his invitation. Mary had awaited its arrival since the invitations were first sent out, and it was upon the early morning of the day of the gathering that the servants knocked upon her door with the letter.

"Oh, Mary, you must read it aloud!" Georgiana begged as Mary pulled out the letter. "I could not bear to wait another moment to hear what its contents are."

"'_Dear Ms. Mary Bennet_,'" Mary began. "'_It is of the utmost urgency that I write to you. As of late, I have been so very preoccupied with my work and other matters in regards to my life that I have neglected my response to your sweet invitation. I would very much wish to be present at your gathering, for I have no doubt that you shall be a most gracious hostess, but I cannot promise to you that I shall be able to come. I do wish to see you again, for I find much joy in your company, but I know not if my work may permit my absence for a day or two so that I might come and see you. It does appear as if there be not enough hours in the day for me, Miss Bennet, otherwise I would call upon you more often than time permits me to at present time. But do not think that my absence at your picnic shall evoke any ill sentiments towards you. I shall try to arrive at a reasonable hour, but if I do find myself able to attend, I do apologize, for I shall most certainly be tardy. You did note that I am a punctual man, and I do hate to disappoint you by being dilatory, but it appears as if that may be my only option so that I might see you. I do hope that you find much enjoyment in your picnic and that you are just as well off as ever you were. I am of the utmost certainty that your gathering shall be a success! Much regards, Thomas Richardson_.'"

"Well… at least the man was able to explain himself," Georgiana saw the crestfallen countenance of her friend. "I am sure that he truly did wish to come, Mary. Mary! Do not be so sad… I could not bear it…"

"It is not sadness," Mary's eyes remained upon the letter. "It is that I realize now, it was Mr. Richardson who sent me Graham." The kitten's head came up at the sound of its name.

"Mr. Richardson? Are you so very sure now?"

"Why, of course," Mary answered. "He sent me also a poem in this other letter. Again."

"Do read it, Mary! I do grow to love poetry so very much. Your Mr. Richardson is making me become quite the lover…"

"_She was a phantom of delight/When first she gleam'd upon my sight;/A lovely apparition, sent/To be a moment's ornament;/Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;/Like twilight's, took her dusky hair;/But all things else about her drawn/From May-time and the cheerful dawn;/A dancing shape, an image gay/To haunt, to startle, and waylay_.

"_I saw her upon nearer view/A Spirit, yet a Woman too/Her household motions light and free/And steps of virgin liberty;/A countenance in which did meet/Sweet records, promises as sweet;/A creature not too bright or good/For human nature's daily food;/For transient sorrows, simple wiles/Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles_."

"_And now I see with eye serene/The very pulse of the machine;/A being breathing thoughtful breath/A traveler between life and death;/The reason firm, the temperate will/Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;/A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd/To warn, to comfort, and command;/And yet a Spirit still, and bright/With something of angelic light_."

"Oh, such sweet words, Mary!"

"'Perfect Woman,' by William Wordsworth." Mary grinned to herself. "It was a favorite of my sisters before they were married. They devoured the words up as if there was no other savory confection in this world."

"My, this Mr. Richardson is quite the romantic," Georgiana grabbed the letter and read it over again. "He did not sign it?"

"I suppose Mr. Richardson wishes to be mysterious," Mary answered simply in a reasonable tone. "He did remark that he found me to be intriguing. Perhaps this is his means of intriguing me. Unfortunate for him that his two letters arrived on the same day."

"Of course you shall marry him now, Mary." Georgiana responded. "Why, he did go through such trouble to do such a thing for you! And he does appreciate literature, as you do, and you shall both be able to speak of words of eloquence with one another 'til kingdom come, if you so desired. It is so very perfect!"

"I still do not know the man, nor does he really know me."

"Oh, but he shall propose, of that I am sure. You shall not reject him, shall you?"

"Mr. Richardson is so very occupied with his life, he has not the time to think of marriage." Mary responded. "He cannot even find time enough to attend a small gathering, and he is most certainly not in the position to propose. And, if he does, I know not what I should do, for I know not enough of him to make such a decision. But, since providence does appear that if he does choose to propose, he shall do so in quite some time, then I am sure I might know him before such an occurrence happens."

"Such formalities always seemed so unnecessary," Georgiana pouted.

"I need to know the man I marry, Georgiana. Do you not wish to do the same?"

"I suppose I do, but I should not think of the matter in so practical a sense…" Georgiana replied. "I should not look at a description of what he does, nor know of what his favorite plate is, or how many years he spent in his current employment. I suppose I should rather know if the man is able to make me feel like I truly am loved and such matters as if I find our time together enjoyable and can imagine myself doing such things with him in the future with just as much contentment. That be all I think I should know before I might decide on whether or not I might accept any offer of marriage."

"You do always manage to arouse such feelings of guilt within me for being the way I am," Mary sighed. "I know I should think him to be perfectly amiable. I do. Truly. I cannot think of a reason why I should not marry the man, and yet I still wish to know more before I can make a decision. It does appear as if I have become nonsensical."

"Love does that to a person," Georgiana hinted.

"Oh, enough of you and your talk of love!" Mary responded, though she laughed. "I do assure you there is far more to converse of with a person than the affairs of the heart."

"I suppose so, but do we not try to use our heart in all matters?"

"My, and now you shall use my logic against me?" Mary shook her head. "You are positively malicious, Georgiana Darcy."

"Such a strong word for a friend," Georgiana laughed. "But I do suppose I deserved that, for I have been most unwilling to drop such a subject with you."

"At least you have come to be aware of it."

"I suppose this is enough chatter for the day?" Georgiana sat up. "I do believe we have neglected our tasks for too long an interval of time. Perhaps we should depart outdoors so we might greet our guests?"

"I suppose we should."

* * *

**16 **

Guests appeared promptly at the time suggested for their arrival, and Mary Bennet and Georgiana Darcy greeted them with a smile. Within the hour, the lawns of Pemberley were filled with people conversing and enjoying themselves immensely. The two young ladies received much praise on their choice of décor, hanging ribbons of pink and white from the plants and columns and trees. Thick blankets of the same hues were scattered throughout, and there were many dining sets of a creamy shade of white with umbrellas of pink placed about randomly.

The day worn on, until the sky set in bursts of purple, pink, and orange. Candles were lit in the bushes and the candelabra were taken out to provide a faint illumination for the guests that remained. As most balls were held during the night, all had a natural inclination to want to dance, and so the patio that had been often neglected during the day was filled with guests who reveled in such merriment.

Despite herself, Mary was taken by a few men who asked for her hand, and she and Georgiana would giggle and wink at one another as they passed, laughing much as Lydia and Kitty had once done. As she stepped away from her last partner, breathing heavily and smiling all the while, Mary felt a slight touch upon her shoulder and turned to find Mr. Richardson standing before her.

"M-m-miss Bennet," Mr. Richardson took in the sight of her and took another breath. "Would it be so bold of me to compliment on how positively breathtaking you appear?"

"I suppose there be no need to answer such an inquiry, given that you have already spoken such a thing." Mary laughed and stepped away from the dancers. "I did not think you would be able to come. I hope you have not neglected too much of your priorities."

"Believe me, Miss Bennet, that if I had the opportunity to rearrange such priorities, they would surely be much different."

"I am glad that you were able to make it to Pemberley for the gathering," Mary told him, not wishing for silence to be present too much in the conversation.

"It looks exceptionally delightful," Mr. Richardson looked around now as if it were his first time to see the scenery about him. "You have done a superb job of the décor, Miss Bennet."

"You need not call me, Miss Bennet, Mr. Richardson." Mary replied. "We are all friends here. Mary shall suit me perfectly fine, I do promise you."

"I shall call you Mary only if you shall do me the same justice and call me Thomas."

"Thomas," Mary said the name to try it out. "Oh, you seem so much more formal to be a Thomas. Mr. Richardson is so much more suitable for you, in your polished attire and spectacles and…"

"Perhaps I might be indulged with your company for a walk?" Mr. Richardson asked, this time offering his arm out to her. "It would truly make my evening to be allowed to have your presence with me in private."

"I suppose I might be able to indulge you on that much, at least." Mary answered, her arm now locked with him. "It does appear as if the sun sets far too fast. Just earlier it was setting in the most brilliant colors."

"I do apologize, for I do wish to discuss such lovely landscapes with you, but my thoughts were far too preoccupied to notice such things before I arrived."

"Is there far too much work on your mind?" Mary questioned. "You know, you did not have to abandon your work merely for this. It is just a small something that I planned with a friend. I am sure there shall be other opportunities…"

"I shall never regret attending this," Mr. Richardson told her seriously. "For a moment away from my work to be spent in the company of such an exquisite woman s-s-such as yourself, Miss Bennet, I thank you for all of this."

"But I do feel as if it should be I to thank you, Mr. Richardson." Mary responded. "You have been far too generous to me as of late…"

"No, Miss Bennet, the pleasure was entirely my own. You deserve far more than that which I have provided…"

"You are too modest."

"And you are just as much so."

"Well, then it does appear as if we have another trait in common." Mary laughed, unsure of how to respond any other way.

"It is far too pleasurable to be away from my work," Mr. Richardson took a deep breath of the night air. "As of late, it has been consuming all of my time."

"Yes, I came into the acquaintance of a Mrs. Barnaby, whose husband knows you. She spoke that you were quite engulfed in your studies."

"For far too long has my life been encompassed by my studies," Mr. Richardson looked at Mary and smiled. "But do know, Miss Bennet, that eventually I shall rearrange these priorities of mine."

"For how long do you plan to stay?" Mary asked. "Do you not have a class tomorrow?"

"I do have a class in the morning."

"Do you worry you shall not return in time?"

"The thought has crossed my mind, I must admit." Mr. Richardson admitted. "However, I find far more enjoyment in my current position to allow myself to feel such concern."

"Mr. Richardson, may I inquire as to why resume your friendship with Edward Pendleton?"

"You may," Mr. Richardson frowned. "I am sure you do not think so fondly of my friend, especially after the confrontation that occurred during the Chamberlain Ball. However, I grew up with the man. He was often neglected, and it allowed for him to grow without boundaries. His independence since his parents' death has placed him with much power, and though he grows arrogant, there is much of the young Pendleton that I knew as a lad that I cannot abandon. There is much that I do not approve of about my friend, but I still see him as the boy that I know, and cannot imagine departing from his acquaintance. I suppose it is that sacred memory that makes me cling to this relation of mine…"

"I suppose I understand," Mary lowered her eyes. "My younger sisters, most particularly Lydia, were not always so presumptuous as they are at present time. I do recall a time when my youngest sister often followed me about, while Kitty was just as much a child as she. She foundmy maturityespecially appealing, and clung to me as a child clings to their mother, for often mama was still as whimsical in her puerile ways as us children, and I was the only adult figure present in her life besides papa, who was too busy with his work or in his study to spend much time with us children. Unfortunately, the traits that she loved as a babe she would reject as she got older, and shesoon becameconsumed in the same pursuit of mama's in this game of marriage."

"Game?" Mr. Richardson arched an eyebrow. "You speak as if love is something that is in need of strategy and technique."

"And that is the portrait of mama's ideas of love. Mama desires to be the master in it," Mary let out a quick laugh at the thought. "She has been most studious in the preparation, I do assure you. I cannot say that it has done her much good, for though my sisters all reside in providential positions within wedlock, it was more by their own doing than her own. Mama's interference likely deferred the process, if anything."

"So does this mother of yours now pursue to wed you off as well, Miss Bennet?"

"She has been attempting this since I was old enough to attend balls," Mary shook her head. "I suppose the marriage of her middle child is a most arduous task, for she has not succeeded thus far."

"Perhaps it might be because no man has yet to measure up?"

"Oh, I do think it is more that I am not as desirable of a woman as I ought to be, and it is I who fall short of such standards."

"I have never before heard a more nonsensical statement," Mr. Richardson looked her in the eyes. "You are a most brilliant lady, Miss Bennet, and I cannot imagine a man who might think you not desirable."

"You speak far too much flattery," Mary responded. "My sisters… they are handsome, and I…"

"And you have your fair share of beauty as well," Mr. Richardson interrupted. "I shall not hear of you belittling yourself, Miss Bennet, when I can see plainly before me that you are a most attractive lady with the most becoming qualities."

"As a child, I once took Lydia to the Meryton with me." Mary began, reminiscing the past. "It was before I grew distaste for being in public so very often, and before Lydia refused my company in her life. She was eleven, I believe, perhaps twelve… maybe thirteen… my memory fails me at present time. We passed by a street where a group of boys tossed a ball. They were quite youthful still, though I could identify them as being a bit elder, and advancing rapidly into manhood. We had interrupted their game and they stared in a way that made me blush. It was the first time that I came to realize that women could incite the fancy of a man. However, the gazes that I thought might be intended for me were proven false when they advanced and began to speak to my sister. She had never before noticed such attention from men as well, and reveled in their affection. Naturally, I hurried her away from the boys, much to her protest. It was a first for her as well, and after that, she preferred to go out with Kitty or my other sisters, and we went out separate ways. I knew then that I should never compare to my sisters… that I was simply not the same. As of late, I have received the attention of a few men, and it has been most surprising for me. Eighteen years of life before this has been nothing but a position of being ignored and unnoticed by all. I am so unaccustomed to being compared to beauties, and thought one…"

"Miss Bennet, I know not why any person might ever shun your presence, but boys are often filled with a head of air at such an age. But, Miss Bennet, you should not compare yourself to your sisters, nor any other person. We all are so incomparable, and we shall always fall short in comparisons to others. If the primary foundation of our personal esteem lies within where we stand in comparisons of others, we shall never be satisfied. Before me stands a lady who exudes a splendor that is undeniable. I must admit, never before have I a pursued a woman as I have in regards to you, Miss Bennet. I do hope you have not tired of my company, or of my talk, for I do wish to see more of you again, Miss Bennet, as often as time permits me."

"I think I should enjoy that," Mary smiled. "And I did come to notice that we grow to open up to one another. You do not stutter in a nervous habit as you had before…" Mary covered her mouth at what she had spoken. "…but you are not the only one, Mr. Richardson. I do apologize for…"

"It is very true, that I have been prone to lose my ability to speak when caught in a fit of nervousness," Mr. Richardson laughed, and Mary found it quite delightful to hear.

"And I do not open so easily to others, where I might speak of my childhood." Mary told him. "You are the first person that I have shared such a story with."

"Then I truly do feel it was a privilege to hear of such a memory, Miss Bennet." Mr. Richardson looked around them, as they had reached the end of all the lights and stood now with only the stars above as illumination. "It does appear as if we have abandoned all of the gathering."

"I entirely forgot that," Mary laughed. "My, time certainly does progress quite rapidly. It is hard to believe the evening is nearly up. I suppose you should leave soon, so you might return to your work at your designated time in the morning?"

"It has been a most pleasurable evening, Miss Bennet." Mr. Richardson steered her back towards the gathering. "And it does seem that I must soon depart, which is most unfortunate, for I have enjoyed our time together immensely. However, I cannot depart quite yet until I have stolen you for at least one dance, perhaps two? I first saw you this evening finishing a dance and you looked so very exquisite, with your eyes sparkling and you face flushed from the merriment, that I cannot leave before seeing such a look upon you again. It shall be the memory I take with me as I drive home into the night…"

"Well, after such a gratifying speech, I cannot deny you this." Mary told him, blushing as she held his hand and was led into the group of dancers.


	19. Volume II Part 9

**AN:** So I have reached the end of Volume II of Comparisons and Complaisance. I hope you have enjoyed it thus far. One Volume to go, unfortunately. Thank you for all of the reviews so far. You all are so very delightful and it inspires me to continue writing and to update asap so that I might do you all a favor for being so very wonderful to me with your encouraging words. Some of you appear to know very well where this story might head, and I love that you are reading close enough to construe what I intend. I shall stop at that, for fear that I might reveal to much of what is to come. Do continue with your lovely words and reviews, for I am almost at 100!

* * *

**17 **

The arrival of Mr. Richardson filled Mary with a new feeling of relief and the following day she roamed the halls of Pemberley with a smile plastered upon her face. Georgiana merely commented on how lovely it was to see her friend so very happily situated within life, and it was not until Mary was visited by William that her condition was remarked upon with scrutiny.

William Cadaver had situated easily within the life of Pemberley. Amongst the other servants, he had become an especial favorite and Mrs. Reynolds already viewed him as a son, providing him with special privileges and making sure to help him adjust in an effortless manner. He appeared before her in a black suit that made him appear far older than he typically was, though Mary initially suspected it be because the suit was not altered to his body and hung on him largely.

"You appear happier every moment I see you, Mary." William noted, tilting his head to the side. "But there is something different with this smile of yours. Whatever happened?"

"The picnic…"

"Ah, yes, of course." William shook his head. "I should have known, for I planned so very much of it in the kitchens. It was most certainly a success, Mary. I am sure you are glad with that."

"Not just that, William." Mary told him, unable to stop her smiling. "Mr. Richardson attended."

"Mr. Richardson?" William could not conceal his shock. "Edward Pendleton's good friend?"

"Yes, that is him." Mary noticed her friend's expression. "Oh, William, do not think so ill of him. I do assure you, the man is perfectly amiable. Why, I have never… I cannot imagine… I am so very happy! It does not seem so normal to be so very blithe but it feels as if I have not the slightest control of these feelings. Please William, do not think that he is so terrible of a person for me…"

"It is not that I doubt his character," William responded. "It is just… Mary… do you not think the man a bore? I fear I might fall into slumber when in his presence."

"He is not so tiring as you might think, William." Mary defended. "I suspected I might find myself too droll when in his company but last night was so very perfect! We strolled in the dark with one another, and I was so very comfortable with it all. Why, I even told him of my childhood, and I never speak of such things to anyone. Mama does not even know so much of me. And then we danced William, and it was all so… so very delightful…"

"Delightful?" William stared at her. "But I thought that you detest such things?"

"Oh, but I do, which is why it is all so very unbelievable!" Mary looked about frantically, unsure of what to do to calm herself. "I could not stop laughing, and I did not wish for him to depart. And since then, I cannot stop smiling, and I feel so very absurd to walk with such a grin upon my face and this jollity that pervades my entire being, but I cannot be rid of it, and I enjoy it all so very much. I do not wish to ever have any other sentiments pass through my body, for these are most becoming."

"It does appear as if my friend is in love."

"Love?" Mary stopped her hysterical rambles. "Surely this is not love?"

"I was just as much a fool when I met Margaret," William explained. "Though we knew one another for so very short of an interval, when I proposed… why… I never thought I should ever wipe a smile from my face. There be no other explanation, Mary. You are incandescently in love."

"Love…" Mary breathed the word. "But… William… I never before imagined love to feel like… like this. I am far too careless and silly and…"

"And not an ounce of logic passes through your veins and it all seems so very ridiculous but so very right at the same instance?"

"Well… I suppose… yes… I believe that is what I feel."

"You are so hopelessly in love, Mary, I cannot help but feel the same feelings of joy for you."

"What a fool I am," Mary placed a hand to her forehead and sat on the ground. "William, I do not know of Mr. Richardson feels the same. Why… what if he does not? What if he does not call upon me again and I have made the biggest fool of myself?"

"It is the folly of love, to place so much of your happiness upon one person and trusting them to provide you with it." William smiled warmly at her and sat beside her. "But you need not worry. A man does not travel and abandon his work to put it in such jeopardy if he does not love the person."

"Is that not what you have done for your brother?" Mary turned. "You put much of what you held dear to yourself on allowing him to attend Edward Pendleton's ball at Chamberlain Hall."

"I suppose so, though he did not prove trustworthy in the end, but I dare say it was not entirely his fault, for my mast…Edward Pendleton… was not the most reasonable of persons that night." William shook his head with a grin. "I do wonder what havoc he now inflicts upon the world. He was never one to be so very satisfied with it all."

"Really? How so?"

"Even as a child, John never could find much contentment in the simple aspects of life." William laughed. "He would worry our mother and father so very much when he would disappear to venture into the towns a few miles away. We attended school, and it would be such an enigma to us all how he was able to produce such extraordinary marks though he rarely attended. He would abandon school to roam the streets. Jonathan knew always where the most fun might be had, and I do not think another person might have enjoyed their childhood more."

"Whatever inspired him to pursue being a sailor? There are other means to travel, surely."

"Of course there are, but he enjoyed the rush. Though it is not the most respectable of jobs, he thought it was great merriment to be crude and unkempt. He is a most peculiar person, but I suppose I have grown so very accustomed to such habits of his that I find it all so perfectly acceptable."

"Well, you are not alone with rambunctious siblings." Mary reminded. "I grew up with a family of very different temperaments and attitudes. It was so rare of an occurrence, to find the house so completely silent."

"Do you suppose you should accept Thomas Richardson, if ever he does propose? For I am sure that he must…"

"I… I do not know."

"You do not know? But Mary, how can you not? You, who has been smiling the entirety of the time since you last departed from him…"

"I do not know enough of the man…"

"What is left to know of him?"

"William, this is the man to whom I shall spend the rest of the duration of my life with. Of course I shall be most certain that he is whom I would wish to dedicate my life to."

"Perhaps you do not love the man…"

"Wait… now I do not? William, this is all so very confusing. Whyever would I not be in love now?"

"Mary, if you have an ounce of doubt within you, you cannot be in love. Why, if you must hesitate before you might declare such sentiments or you are unsure of accepting a proposal from the man… Mary, that is not love."

"Then whatever is it, William?"

"I know not what it is that I might tell you, Mary, but if ever you must hesitate before you answer the question of whether it be love… that is not love."

"Do you believe that it might become love someday, William? I have certainly never before found myself feeling as I do when in his presence, so, surely, that must account for something."

"I am not sure, Mary." William saw the despair now in her eyes. "But I would not worry so much over such a thing, for I am most certain that your answer shall come in time."

"Whenever shall the waiting end, William?" Mary asked. "For so very long I have waited for something to occur, and it does take such a dreadfully long time."

"Do not fret, Mary. Your time shall come."

"Oh, I am most certain it shall, but when?" Mary sighed. "Though I try to appear unwearied, William, I am a most impatient person. And eighteen years is so very long of a time to wait."

"Once again, Mary Bennet, you do not stand alone. I do doubt that any person is ever so patient as they appear."

* * *

**18 **

Another sennight passed, and Mary remained at Pemberley. Not much excitement had occurred following the picnic, and order encompassed the affairs of all once more.

Georgiana Darcy had grown particularly jaded by such monotonous routines, and arose at an early hour to awaken Mary, who had been seated at a writing desk in her room the entire night. Not removing herself from her current work, Mary's lack of reluctance to cooperate forced Georgiana to hurry with a chair to attend to her friend's hair and face, and Mary allowed her to do that much.

By the time the sun appeared in a small crescent above the horizon of Pemberley's gardens and struck through the wide windows of Mary Bennet's room, the two young ladies were ready for the day. Dressed in their attire from the picnic, Georgiana had packed a suitcase of another gown for the both of them, and hurried Mary to a carriage that awaited them outside.

"Whatever do you have planned now, Georgiana?" Mary inquired. "You have been so very silent since you impeded upon my writing this morning, and I have not heard a word as to where you plan to take us."

"You shall see in time," Georgiana's grin widened. "Why, I do think that you shall enjoy this trip very much indeed."

"Oh," Mary petted Graham, who rested upon her lap gazing at them both with wide eyes. "She plans to keep secrets with us, Graham. Perhaps we should indulge ourselves with some poetry instead?"

"My, you can never put these books down since you received that letter." Georgiana remarked when she saw Mary's small bag filled entirely with novels of poetry. "Perhaps this be an obsession, Mary?"

"I have always been a true lover of poetry," Mary told her. "This previous experience has merely augmented my tastes."

"I suppose ifa man had sent me poetry, I would never put it down again, for I should think of him with every word and syllable."

"Precisely," Mary grinned and commenced with her reading.

The trip took the duration of the day. In the middle of the afternoon, the carriage came to a halt as Mary and Georgiana descended into a crowded street. It took a glance for Mary Bennet to identify that she resided within London and as she stood before a rather large edifice, she knew very well what awaited her, and her heart accelerated with a predisposition to run back within the carriage.

"Georgiana, I could not possibly…"

"You need not worry, Mary." Georgiana reassured. "I have already corresponded with him, and he is quite aware of your visit."

"But, am I not dressed so very formal for such a visit?"

"It is London, Mary." Georgiana giggled. "There be not a person within the mile who does not dress for the day in anything less than that which we wear."

The halls of the building were ghastly, as walls once a bright white were now gray with age. Though the ceiling was of glass and the sun shown bright above still, the hall was dark and cast in a shadow that appeared abandoned and grisly. Large doors that were cracked and seemed held together by cobwebs had small signs associated with courses offered, and at the end, Mary found in chipped paint the words "Literature- Richardson" and she hesitated with her hand upon the door before entering.

Rows of chairs ascended in a fashion of a stadium with students with heads bowed orof students who lookedup at a lecture in enraptured expressions of listening. At the front, before a chalkboard that reached the ceiling that made even the tall figure before it appear miniscule, Mr. Richardson continued in his discussion of Aristotle and Plato and "The Cave".

Her presence went quite unknown at present time, and Mary stood, staring at the man as he passionately ran about the board, drawing out his views and analysis for his students to scribble down at an equally rapid pace. His overcoat was unbuttoned, and his shirt fell over his pants in a wrinkled fashion. With his cravat untied and his hair disheveled from his hands running through it in deep thought, he appeared much like a raving lunatic, but to Mary Bennet he seemed far too intellectual and seemed, rather,mad with thoughts that materialized far too quickly to disseminate at the appropriate rate.

A laugh surpassed her lips and it echoed in the dimly lit room, and went unnoticed by most. Moments later, a few heads turned, until all of the heads in the stadium were fixated upon her. It was not until the chalk was thrown down and the rampant man advanced to his desk where one of his books lay that he looked up and saw that the attention of his class was elsewhere. Following the gazes of his students, Mr. Richardson saw Mary standing at the entrance, her eyes bearing into his with a smile of amusement.

"Miss Bennet!" he grinned and hurried over, his cravat and shirt billowing out. "It is so very good to see you again."

"My, I never thought education to be so very… passionate." Mary noted his attire and her smile widened. "I most certainly did not expect the man who appeared so very taciturn upon my first acquaintance with him to have such a… display of character."

"Yes, this is truly my passion, as you have noted so accurately, Miss Bennet." Mr. Richardson saw she stared at him, and laughed, fumbling to fix his attire. "I do apologize for my… appearance. I am not always so very… outlandish in my lectures, but I do find myself to be so very fervently involved in my discussions of philosophy in literature. It has been a particular obsession of mine, since I was a youth."

"You need not apologize," Mary laughed. "I just did not expect such an exhibition from you."

"I do suspect my class is perfectly capable of maintaining studious demeanors for the remainder of the day?" Mr. Richardson was answered with a room of nods. "I shall trust you to do some independent studies. There shall be some tests tomorrow, so do promise to do your fair share of reading."

"Do you honestly suspect them to study in your absence?" Mary inquired as he led her outdoors, holding the door for her and locking arms with hers. "It does appear as if that is far too much trust for a person."

"These men have spent far too long devoted to their studies to make it to the university to dally now." Mr. Richardson answered. "They know well what is required of them and, if they do not study now, I do feel quite confident that they shall later in the day."

"You do love your work so very much," Mary responded. "That is very admirable, and I am most envious of you, I must admit. I do wish to have such an ardent love for what I do."

"I cannot imagine that you do not contribute all of yourself to whatever you might find yourself involved in, Miss Bennet."

"Do you not think that a far leap of a speculation?"

"We all do our fair share of conjecture throughout our lives, Miss Bennet. But it does appear that we grow to know one another quite clearly."

"Yes, we do grow better acquainted." Mary admitted, observing his stare. "My, I do think you stare, Mr. Richardson."

"I cannot help to, Miss Bennet," Mr. Richardson did not remove his gaze. "Last I saw you cast in moonlight, this gown did not appear so striking, nor the lady, and in this light, I do not think I have ever seen a more divine image."

"You are far too flattering…"

"I speak the truth, Miss Bennet…"

"How has your studies been, Mr. Richardson?" Mary asked and continued when he did not respond. "I have often wondered what endeavors you find yourself consumed in when you are not within your studies. What else of the world offers you satisfaction?"

"I am so very simple a person," Mr. Richardson answered her. "I am not one to subtly hint to what my intentions are, nor am I one to lead a lady so astray with my actions. I hope I have done neither to you, Miss Bennet, for you to not understand what governs me in my relations with you."

Since Mary Bennet had abandoned him amongst the dancers at the Chamberlain ball, Mr. Richardson had been so very amused. Never before had he seen a woman of more independent thought or of such self-assurance that she would speak so to a stranger. He had been so very compelled by his enchantment by Mary Bennet that he had followed his friend, Edward Pendleton, to where she was with another man. It did not register in his head at the time that what surpassed between his friend and this lady was of immediate drama or threat, and he did not take notice of the raised voices or angered tones, but saw merely the flash of twilight in Mary Bennet's eyes as she confronted those who challenged her. He saw how brilliant she appeared, and he took delight in a woman who was not of the immediate handsomeness that most men primarily find attractive but who possessed some sense of poise to provide her with her own degree of beauty that surpassed any appeal from other women within his presence.

He knew that there was not much he knew of the women, and that his acquaintance with her was far too short for him develop the necessary knowledge of her to make any decisions that posed a long term effect upon his life, but he found himself rearranging the affairs of his life to somehow accommodate her into it. When in her presence, time ceased to appear so very abundant, and he felt that not another moment should be wasted. Perhaps he knew upon his first acquaintance with her, when he had saw her in the same tone of outfit as himself, as if they were meant to be paired together, that he would be before her someday as he is this very moment, knowing well that he would rearrange his life to encircle her entirely.

"It grows dark already," Mary saw the sun begin to set. "And I know not where Georgiana resides. She had abandoned me at the university, without a word of where I should meet her."

"We stand now before the doorsteps of the residence of the Darcy family," Mr. Richardson watched Mary turn her head to look at the building. "I did promise your friend, a Miss Georgiana Darcy, to escort you to where you shall stay. I believe your sister, Elizabeth Bennet, and her husband reside here as well."

"Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Richardson." Mary smiled. "I am most pleased to see you again so very soon. I suppose we might see one another again, during my stay in London?"

"Of course," Mr. Richardson answered. "I intend to see you very often, Miss Bennet."

"I should invite you in, Mr. Richardson, but I know not if it is appropriate, for it is not my home." Mary told him. "If you would like…"

"Perhaps it should be odd for me to enter now and invade upon a family reunion, merely as a close acquaintance…" Mr. Richardson responded, and looked her in the eye. "…but, perhaps it should not be so very odd if I entered now as a person to embrace and welcome his family?"

"Surely you do not mean to say…" Mary stopped herself, for she knew the answer.

"Miss Bennet, I know it is far too early in our acquaintance, but I cannot wait. When in your presence, I feel as if I should never wish to depart from your side, and, I do feel I might have the remedy."

"The remedy?"

"Yes, the remedy for this feeling that arises whenever I find myself in your acquaintance… the sentiments that rush through my being since I first met you. Take my hand, Miss Bennet, and we should never have to depart from one another again."


	20. Volume III Part 1

**AN: **Words do not express the depth of my guilt for taking so very long, and I can only offer my humblest apologies. As of late, I have been preoccupied, and have not had access to the computer or internet, so for the longest time I did not have the beginning of part 3 to continue off of. Unfortunately, I am not sure the next time I will be able to update because of this technical difficulty, but I hope is shall pass so I might provide you with updates on the usual basis. I will try to update asap, but I know not when that time will be. If you still find it within your hearts to review and tell me what you think, it shall be greatly appreciated and I shall smile and give you cyber cookies for your efforts!

* * *

**Volume III**

**1**

Georgiana Darcy found Mary Bennet before a large vanity of her new room, her face stoic and her eyes gazing intently upon her reflection. Never before had Mary seemed so very pale and wan as her hands clutched the edge of the mahogany furniture with white knuckles.

"Whatever occurred to you?" Georgiana asked. "Elizabeth asks of where you had departed. She has much to ask of you."

"However might I face the world?"

"Whyever would you be unable?"

"However might I face my only family?"

"Come now, Mary, you know well I do not settle so easily with living in the shadows on the affairs of those close to me. I do not wish for ignorance in what occurs in your life."

"Georgiana…"

"My brother speaks so very little with me now that he has a wife to confide in and he is not one to find enjoyment in speaking of the same story twice. Please tell me you do not intend to be as aloof as he."

"Why, of…"

"…for I could not stand it if you did, Mary, for we are such dear friends, sisters, in fact, and…"

"My, with you rambling in such hysteria, the day shall be through before I might speak." Mary interrupted. "It was not that I did not wish to tell you. I was still attempting to gather a voice to explain myself."

"Oh, is that what you were engaging in as you stared at the reflection?" Georgiana giggled. "Has Mary Bennet a trace of vanity now? Do you come to distinguish some handsomeness about you?"

"I look and see the same person I had oft times cried over," Mary touched the glass with a finger. "But there is something new about me. I know not what it is."

"And, heaven forbid, Mary Bennet might not know all there is of the world."

"Whatever is that supposed to imply?"

"Perhaps it be some new confidence in yourself that you see?"

"Complacence was never an issue for myself, Georgiana."

"I have no doubt of it," Georgiana agreed but continued. "However, you were always self-assured of your worth, Mary. I think now you come to the realization that others recognize you as worthwhile as well, and it is this confidence in knowing that others see within you the same soul that you see that places you now with a new light."

"You are the most ridiculous girl I have ever met, Georgiana Darcy, and yet so very full of wisdom. You never cease to bemuse me."

"Might I take another gander and guess this new comprehension of yourself was invoked by a Mr. Thomas Richardson?"

"I just wished to see the woman he does," Mary sighed and Graham mewed, jumping atop her lap to cuddle. "I thought no man might ever come to see me as worthwhile, and yet Mr. Richardson appears to see me as a figure whose shoes are far too large for myself. I fear I am not up to his expectations."

"Whyever would you not be? You are a brilliant female, Mary Bennet, and Mr. Richardson is a man of his times. Women are to emerge into the world. I see it coming. He should know of a true individual if ever one emerged into her life."

"You never fail to soothe my nerves."

"Any friend shall do the same as I."

"Perhaps I should ship you to mama. I do wonder if any nerves exist to be pained so with worry."

"Well, I suppose they shall not be in need for me to ameliorate soon, for your love life is quite abundant as of late."

"Love? Georgiana…"

"Come now, no more modesty!" Georgiana knelt on the floor beside Mary's chair. "I feel I have been most patient. Tell me."

"Please inform me of what you wish to know."

"You do not intend for me to ask, though you know well what I speak of!" Georgiana moaned at Mary's silence. "You shall be my end, Mary Bennet. Do tell me of what surpassed with you and Mr. Richardson. I cannot bear through another moment of uncertainty."

"Oh, Georgiana, you sly, little devil."

"Whatever is this about?"

"However could you plan a reunion with Mr. Richardson and I and not say a word of it to me?"

"Can you find fault in the sincerity of my actions? I observed you during your interludes with Mr. Richardson and concluded that you both are far too compatible for this to merely remain a plutonic relation when it could easily develop into a deeper attachment."

"You should not have gone through such trouble."

"It was for a friend and sister. It was truly no trouble at all."

"I cannot believe you left us alone, Georgiana Darcy! What might have occurred if neither of us knew of where you resided? It cannot be a most secure place to roam about the streets of London at night."

"Mr. Richardson is quite aware of where my brother and Elizabeth boarded and, if not, you are always the sensible one, and I am most certain of your aptitude of navigation."

"Such a crafty little…"

"Enough of such talk when I desire to hear of what passed between the two of you."

"Should I tell Georgiana, Graham, or shall I allow her a day in the shadows, blissfully unaware of what I have done, as she did in her affairs with managing this whole reunion?"

"Oh, what is there to be unaware of, Mary, when I know well that you both were together? The wait shall most definitely not be blissful, nor shall I take much delight in it."

"I suppose she has suffered enough," Mary placed Graham atop the vanity and the kitten curled up beside her reflection. "I saw him whilst he was in his class. And it was odd, I do recall, for there was a passion about the man, Georgiana, and when I stood before his class, he appeared as a man who had forgotten of his mind! Why, he was so very disheveled and so improper. It was quite an outrageous display of passion and character."

"My, and what did you think of it all?"

"Why, it was quite... amusing." Mary grinned. "He appeared as a madman, Georgiana, but I had never beheld a more interesting specimen."

"Specimen? This is a man we speak of, Mary, and not some experiment."

"Oh, I am quite aware of it."

"I shall burst, I swear it, if you do not tell me! Just look at how your smile broadens!"

"He was not the same man before his class. He was wild and impassioned and speaking in such an abrupt and frenzied manner, but it appealed to me. There was a confidence about him that I never before saw, but it changed so rapidly when he became aware of my presence."

"Men rarely wish to display themselves in all their foolishness."

"It was not so very foolish that it deterred my interest. It was just a disappointment to have him act so very proper again. When we conversed afterwards, I found myself bored of his presence, for I much rather preferred the silliness to such civil technicalities."

"My, would you prefer a rogue?"

"A rogue? Goodness, no!" Mary exclaimed. "But excitement appears far more appealing than strolling down the street in hushed voices and choosing our words politely as if we partake in a game of chess."

"No one said one need abide to such rules."

"Yes, I am aware of such things, Georgiana, but Mr. Richardson does not choose to abandon them. I would take delight in the spontaneity of the moment. Such surprises thrill me."

"I do wish you could hear yourself. Mary Bennet wishes for scandal!"

"Perhaps not _scandal_, but it would provide some excitement to this life."

"Whatever possesses you, Mary!"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You do not know of yourself."

"How so?"

"Why, you babble and have been so very restless as of late, I fear you shall do something rash and ridiculous."

"I have been far too dull for far too long, and I suppose now should be the time for me to enjoy life."

"It is hard to picture the Mary who could not stand to converse unless it be of words of literature or great intellect. There is no need to speak pedantically anymore or prove there is something worth saying. Mary Bennet is enough."

"It is truly a delightful thought, Georgiana, but there is still much about my character that remains the same."

"Please inform me of it, for I fail to identify such a thing."

"I am merely exhilarated from the experience and feel the need to babble in a most absurd manner so I might calm down this rapid heartbeat and provide myself with time to construe my thoughts of the evening together."

"I suppose that sounds a bit like you."

"Oh, Georgiana, you shall never believe what has occurred!" Mary turned to face her friend and grabbed her hands.

"My Lord, I have only waited so far to hear your account. Believe me, if I were aware of what occurred, I would not be so very impatient, so do tell me now, Mary Bennet."

* * *

**2**

Supper passed in a comfortable manner once Mary and Georgiana joined the party. It was not until they were seated amongst the dimly lit candles in a small sitting room that all shifted in uncertainty of how to progress from where they sat. Georgiana shared a seat with Mary as they sat opposite the newlywed Darcy's. In an armchair that had been relocated to sit alongside where Mary Bennet resided, Mr. Richardson shifted her gaze from her to the Darcy's.

"Georgiana tells me you are a professor," Mary raised an eyebrow at Mr. Darcy's reluctance for conversation. "What exactly is it that you teach?"

"Well, there is a myriad of principles evoked within the pages of novels, Mr. Darcy." Mr. Richardson cleared his throat and allowed for a few moments to pass. "W-w-where I first began to… read such things, I knew I should dedicate all that I am to sharing such knowledge with others. Words can touch the heart and move the world and… I could not p-p-possibly imagine myself elsewhere."

"It does appear Mary has met her match," Elizabeth remarked. "I do not recall a moment where Mary did not indulge herself in a book."

"Really, Lizzie, Mary is much different now," Georgiana told her. "We planned a picnic together at Pemberley."

"A picnic?"

"Yes, it was a most glorious event," Mr. Richardson reassured. "The hostesses were far more than satisfactory and I do doubt there was a soul who could not boast of a good time that day."

"We decorated it, and, brother, you would have loved how we dressed the gardens!" Georgiana elaborated. "We assisted the servants with the food, and everyone found it all savory. There was an orchestra, and I do wonder if any person departed without first embarking onto the dance floor."

"Even I graced the floors," Mr. Richardson smiled. "With a most enchanting partner, I must add."

"You danced, Mary?"

"You need not display _all_ your surprise, Lizzie," Mary told her sister sardonically.

"Oh, believe me, I reserve much, for this evening is most certainly full of surprises."

"Supper was positively delightful," Mr. Richardson complimented when he sensed tension. "It was a privilege to dine with you all."

"Of course, the pleasure was entirely ours, Mr. Richardson." Mr. Darcy replied.

"It is not everyday we might dine with one of Mary's good friends," Georgiana grinned. "Do say you shall dine with us again, Mr. Richardson?"

"I shall not hesitate to accept if ever you all wish for me to join you for supper."

"Miss," a servant approached Elizabeth.

"Excuse me," Elizabeth stood and exited, her husband following.

"I d-d-do apologize if I interrupted your reunion with your sister," Mr. Richardson said. "I meant not to ruin such an occasion."

"You did nothing of the sort," Mary frowned nonetheless. "There was nothing to ruin."

"Mary…" Georgiana reached for her friend, but she stood up and stepped away.

"I have forgotten of Lizzie's wit," Mary shook her head. "It was a mistake to challenge her in such a way. She shall always defeat me."

"Mary, this is not a competition."

"No wonder papa favors her the most and thinks her more sensible than I."

"However might you expect another to not compare you to your sisters when you are constantly guilty of the very same thing?" Georgiana crossed her arms. "Really, Mary, the evening has not gone by so very terribly as you think."

"Please inform me of what else might have occurred to make it worse?"

"It might have been a dinner with your entire family."

"You make a point, Georgiana." Mary sighed. "I did wish to please her. I wished to show I was not as silly as Kitty and Lydia, but I think she now believes me to be all the more ridiculous."

"Do not think such things," Georgiana led Mary before a gold-rimmed piano forte. "My brother tells me this instrument has far been neglected. Perhaps you might grace the keys?

"But you are a far better player than I."

"Enough comparisons for a day, Mary. I desire to hear from you."

Poised hands fell upon ivory as Mary Bennet's long fingers began a slow melody. There was nothing ostentatious in her manner as Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' encompassed the room, and Georgiana did not cringe at any butchery of the song. It had become Mary's masterpiece in a continuous melancholy that was entirely her own.

Mr. Richardson gazed in perplexity at how at ease Mary's hands moved across. This was poetry. This feeling that pulsed through the soul as clearly as the notes emitted. He stepped towards her, hands upon the fort of the piano, and he smiled, imagining a lifetime of remaining in the same position, gazing down at the genius that was his wife.

"Mary," he breathed, reaching for her hand when she finished and placing a kiss upon it. "Dear Goddess, how long has the world been denied your song?"

"Far too much flattery, Mr. Richardson."

"Please, call me Thomas."

"Oh, I could not possibly." Mary tried not to display her discomfort at his refusal to release her hand. "You seem far too polished to be called so."

"Then might you just promise to call me?"

"I suppose that is possible."

"I would remain, for I never wish to depart, but I have long abused your hospitality. It grows late. Though I must wait 'til our next meeting, Mary, do know this song I shall carry with me always."

"It is Beethoven's masterpiece. Not my own."

"Until we meet again, Mary." He kissed her hand once more before releasing her.

"Have you seen a more lovesick fool?" Georgiana giggled. "The man is certainly not shy to detain his affections."

"It all seems so very silly to me," Mary remarked, clutching her hand.

"I am glad I am not alone in that observation."

"Do tell me you were not here to observe it all, Lizzie."

"I came when I heard the music," Elizabeth smiled. "You have improved much with your music, Mary."

"It is by Beethoven, not me."

"You need not repeat such things when I heard you say such to that man."

"Why must you speak as if he is the most ridiculous person within your acquaintance?"

"Do you not think so?"

"Mr. Richardson is a good man."

"So is Mr. Collins, but that does not excuse his silliness."

"Might you never find satisfaction in another, or shall the world be forever at fault, Lizzie?" Mary did not conceal her hurt at her sister's reference. "Mr. Richardson is a decent man. His passions are in the right place, and he likes me. It might be incomprehensible for you to understand, but please do me the decency and have the compassion to treat us cordially."

"I am your sister, Mar. Of course I shall believe you to be lovable. I _know _you to be." Elizabeth smiled softly at her younger sister. "But do tell me you do not mean to accept the man, if ever he conquers that nervousness long enough to propose."

"He already has."

"Proposed?" Elizabeth's surprise was apparent. "You did not accept, did you? This was not why he came to supper, is it? Mary Bennet, do tell me what has occurred between the two of you!"

"I am not engaged, Lizzie, you need not faint in hysteria. I told him I require time, for as much as I approve of him, I wish to be better acquainted. I invited him to dine so he might meet part of my family."

"Oh, thank God!" Elizabeth released a sigh of relief. "I could not imagine you married to such a man."

"Whatever do you mean? I have not denied him yet, Lizzie."

"He is simply not suitable for you."

"Not suitable? If not him, then who?"

"You are so very different. I now agree with Georgiana."

"You did not answer my question."

"That is not for me to know. It is for you to figure out."

"Then, what would you advise?"

"I advise that whoever or whatever has put you in your condition should remain in your life."

"What current condition?"

"Surely you see a change in yourself as well? Honestly, Mary, I thought you more intelligent than that."

"Of course I know I am different!"

"Then whatever brought about the change should not depart," Elizabeth said in a simple manner. "Be sure to keep it as part of your life for it does you much good."

"Did you understand what she said?" Mary asked Georgiana when Elizabeth departed. "Why must she be so philosophical with me?"

"I do doubt the old Mary would carp over such a thing."

"Mr. Richardson is not so horrible a companion. Lizzie is wrong."

"Are you attempting to convince me, Lizzie, or yourself?"

"When did it all begin, Georgiana?" Mary sat down and placed her chin upon the palm of her hands. "I know not when I developed into a different person."

"If you do not know yourself, however might anyone else?"

"I shall find out," Mary announced. "Before I accept Mr. Richardson, I shall know."

"Do not take forever. Waiting occupied far too much of our time as it is."

"I have spent eighteen years of waiting thus far, so you need not remind me." Mary laughed. "Do you honestly believe I desire to wait a moment further?"


End file.
